Reinvention
by FireApe
Summary: After a near-fatal hate crime leaves Kurt with a rare and unusual form of amnesia, he struggles to reinvent himself in a way that won't make him a target for bullies. But the mind and heart don't often agree on such matters.
1. Chapter 1

It was lucky someone found him in time. Lucky that Mr. Schuester forgot a stack of papers he was supposed to grade in the classroom. Lucky that he just happened to notice the suspicious marks on the dusting of snow that was on the ground.

Will shakily described the scene to the policemen at the hospital while the boy was being admitted into emergency surgery. "It was… it was horrible. His bag had been emptied and his things were all over the place; pages torn out of the schoolbooks, cell phone smashed, everything was just… There was blood all over the place; you could barely see him under all the blood. There was a bone sticking out of his leg and his arm looked smashed to pieces. He was pale… so pale. I couldn't tell if he was breathing and couldn't find a pulse. I was so terrified he was… The ambulance got there and they told me that he was alive, but they didn't seem very hopeful that it was going to get better."

Kurt spent almost an entire day going in and out of surgeries. Internal bleeding had to be stopped before it became fatal. Damage had been done to a handful of his organs; it was unclear as of the moment whether he would need any transplants.

His hair had been completely shaved off to deal with the amount of head injuries he'd received. Parts of his brain were dangerously swollen; holes had been cut into his skull to remove excess cerebrospinal fluid to try and help relieve the pressure and hopefully reduce the swelling.

The surgeons were unsure if his right arm could be repaired (it was assumed he tried to defend himself primarily with that arm); the option of amputation was discussed before being ultimately dismissed. They would do their best on his arm.

The number of stitches total was astronomical. The bruises seemed to melt together to form one giant bruise that covered his entire body. The poor boy was broken almost beyond repair.

After countless hours of surgeries, the head surgeon walked out into the waiting room. The tension and anxiety was more than tangible. As he entered, multiple pairs of red and swollen eyes turned to meet him. A man who could only be the boy's father immediately rushed to his feet.

"How is he?" he asked desperately, pain and worry evident in his expression.

"Mr. Hummel, we've done everything we can for your son…"

There was a chorus of choked sobs throughout the room at his statement.

"For the moment his condition is critical, but stable."

"S-so he's okay?" asked the father.

The surgeon shook his head. "I wouldn't call it 'okay'. He's not out of danger yet. There are a number of things that could happen in the next day or two. The swelling in his brain is the main concern right now; it hasn't started receding yet. If he manages to pull through, there will likely be lasting effects due to possible brain damage."

_If he manages to pull through…._

"Doc, you gotta be honest with me," choked Burt. "What are his chances?"

The surgeon hesitated, well aware that everyone in the room (there had to have been at least six or seven people there – quite a few for 5AM) was hanging onto his every word and gesture. "I can't confidently say…"

"I _need _to know," demanded Burt through clenched teeth. "Please."

Another pause and then, "Not good."

The expressions changed throughout the room. Heads shook, unwilling to accept what was just said. Eyes started to well with tears and one girl openly started crying.

"He's done well in all the surgeries so far," continued the surgeon, doing his hardest to keep himself professional in front of so many heartbroken people. "I've lost people from less. It's possible he may pull through."

"So there's a chance?" asked Burt, hands now clasping those of a woman who was standing next to him. "You're saying there's a chance?"

The surgeon didn't want to fill these people with false hope, but from years of experience he knew that sometimes a little hope went a long way. "A small one, but yes, there is a chance."

Burt looked determined and gave a hard nod. "If there's a chance, he'll pull through. My boy's good at defying the odds. He'll pull through," he repeated, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

The doctor gave a small nod, touched by the father's determination. "We have him in a room in ICU. We can only allow family back…" he said, looking at the assortment of people in the room. The young man who had been comforting the crying girl got to his feet. He turned to the others and promised to keep them all up to date. Slowly, the others began to file out, giving encouraging words to the family. Another young man remained behind.

"Are you family, son?" the surgeon asked the dark-haired boy.

The boy looked up, a lost expression on his face. "Uhm, no. No. I'll just…" He got to his feet, eyes confused and hurt. He turned to the other boy. "Let me know if…" His voice caught in his throat as he spoke.

The brother nodded and squeezed the other boy's shoulder. "You'll be the first if anything changes."

Once the boy left, the surgeon led the family to the room where Kurt was being kept. "I'll leave you alone. The call button is next to the bed," he explained before walking off down the hall

Burt's hand hesitated for a moment on the door handle, steeling himself for what he was about to see, before softly opening the door.

If the doctor hadn't told him this was his son, he wouldn't have recognized him. His head was buzzed and bandaged. His face was swollen and purple and there were tubes in his nose and down his throat. His chest was bandaged, one arm was wrapped up tightly and in a sling, he had tubes attached to his other arm which led to bags of saline and blood. A thin blanket covered his lower half, but it was obvious that one leg was in a cast. The only signs of life coming from the boy were the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the pumping of the ventilator.

The moment Burt saw his son, his Kurt, he rushed over and grabbed his good hand, sobbing unashamedly. He studied his face, trying to find his boy underneath all of the cuts bruises.

"Oh God, Kurt. Kurt, son, I'm so sorry," he cried, stroking the boy's hand as tears fell from his cheeks. "You've gotta make it through this. You're so strong, so strong. You always have been." He paused, gingerly stroking the side of his son's face. "I'm not ready to let go of you. You can't leave me, Kurt, you can't. I'm not ready. You can do this."

He looked at the face of his baby boy, his courageous boy, his beautiful boy. Kurt's face remained motionless, eyes closed (partly from the swelling), giving no sign that he was aware of his visitors. Burt couldn't even say that his son looked peaceful as he slept (_he's just sleeping it off)_; he just looked so hurt and broken.

He squeezed Kurt's hand and kept his eyes on his face, ready to catch any sign of movement. "Kurt," he said softly. "Kurt, can you hear me? I'm right here, son. No one else is gonna hurt you while I'm here. You're safe now. I've got ya."

At that point, Finn disentangled himself from his mother's embrace and walked for the door.

"Finn, where are you…?" she asked him, voice catching in her throat.

"I-I can't…" Finn didn't know how to finish the sentence and just walked out of the room. He couldn't handle the atmosphere. He couldn't stand to see Kurt like that or to see Burt so broken-hearted. Kurt had always seemed fragile but now with all those tubes and bandages and machines, he looked like he was just waiting for Death to come and take him.

Finn walked down the hallway, unsure of where he was going, just knowing that he needed to be away from that room. He ended up outside in the brisk, pre-dawn air. His breath formed clouds in front of his face as he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to protect himself from the both the cold air and the numbness in his chest.

That's when he noticed a familiar figure sitting on a bench. It was Blaine. His head was in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. The Dalton boy was shaking slightly.

Finn walked over and sat next to him. "Thought you'd left," he said conversationally, as if nothing was wrong.

Blaine looked up momentarily, meeting Finn's eyes briefly before looking back down at the ground. Finn noticed how red his eyes were and knew that his couldn't look much better. "Didn't think I should be driving. Needed to clear my head." There was a long silence where neither boy spoke. They were both lost in their own thoughts of the current situation.

"This is all my fault," croaked Blaine.

Finn shook his head. "It's not your fault, man," he replied.

"Yes it is," he said firmly. "I told him… if I wouldn't have… and now he's…" He let out a choked sob and started crying in earnest.

Finn put his arm around the other boy, trying to withhold tears of his own. "Not your fault," he repeated. "He's gonna make it through this. He's one of the strongest, most determined guys I know. He's gonna be fine. He's gonna make it."

He was unaware how long the two of them sat there, comforting each other. Neither of them cared that it was below forty degrees outside. When the horizon began to glow with the rising sun, Finn decided it was finally time to move.

"C'mon, you can stay at our place," offered Finn as he got to his feet.

Blaine nodded numbly, mumbling a thanks as he stood up slowly (his joints were more or less frozen in place).

"We'll come back a bit later to see him," said Finn, leading Blaine to his car. "After he rests for a little bit I'm sure he'll be totally psyched to see all of us," he rambled, trying to convince himself that this was truly going to happen in just a few short hours. "We'll catch him when he wakes up."

_When _he wakes up. Not _if. _Finn wouldn't allow there to be an _if._

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**righty, this is my first Glee fic so I'm still trying to get in the groove of the characters. Sorry if they seem a little off. Also, I'm no med student so sorry if I didn't go into extensive details about the owies and hospital stuff. Next chapter should be up later today or tomorrow**. **Reviews make me write faster! =D**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: First and foremost... 43 alerts in 12 hours? Oh my goodness, you people are amazing and have totally made my weekend! I was not expecting such a great response right off the bat.**

**Secondly, this chapter was twice as long before I decided to turn it into two chapters. So you shall suffer where I decided to make the break. Ha. Enjoy it anyway and please review! Reviews are like chocolate bunnies on Easter; don't really have a significant purpose but make me happy anyway!  
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But Kurt didn't wake up the next day. Or the next day. Or the next day. Nothing seemed to be changing (although he had been taken off the ventilator), but the doctors and nurses no longer had pitying looks on their faces all the time. Finn mentioned as much to Burt and they both decided that it must be a good thing.

It wasn't until day five that Kurt made his first brief appearance in the world of the living.

Finn, Mercedes and Blaine were in the room (Burt had gone home to shower and Carole unfortunately had to work). Finn and Mercedes were struggling over homework while Blaine sat in a chair next to Kurt, nodding off. A slight groan from the bed caught everyone's attention. Finn and Mercedes were out of their seats and next to the bed in an instant while Blaine gently grabbed Kurt's hand.

"Kurt? Kurt, are you there buddy?" asked Finn, trying to keep calm.

Kurt's eyes slowly opened halfway. The McKinley students had wide grins on their faces while the Dalton senior looked hopeful. Kurt's lips moved, but no sound came out.

"What is it, Kurt?" asked Mercedes quietly.

There was a pause as Kurt took a few labored breaths, working up the strength to actually speak. "Hurt…" he said, his voice barely audible over the noises of the machines. He winced, shutting his eyes tightly. "Stop… hurt…"

"He needs more painkillers." Mercedes pressed the call button so they could get a nurse to give her boy what he needed.

Blaine remained silent, simply watching Kurt's face in concern at it twisted in pain.

"Hey, Kurt," said Finn, looking down at his step-brother in concern. "We're gonna get you some more medicine to stop the hurting, don't worry. You're gonna be fine, okay?"

But the teen had already slipped back into unconsciousness, pain still etched onto his features. Finn looked across the bed to Blaine. The other boy's eyes didn't leave Kurt's face. "It's an improvement, Blaine," he said, trying to raise the boy's spirits. "One of the docs doubted that he'd ever wake up, well, this proves him wrong. Things are looking up."

"He's in so much pain," said Blaine softly.

A nurse walked in at that moment asking what the problem was. Mercedes explained what happened while Finn spoke with Blaine. "That's what the morphine is for. They'll give him some more and he'll be fine."

Blaine shook his head. "The pain will never completely go away. No amount of medicine can do that."

Finn thought about it. Sure, physical pain could be taken care of with drugs, but there was also going to be some heavy emotional pain Kurt would have to deal with. "Well… that's what he has us for, right?"

Blaine nodded slightly. "Yeah. He'll always have us." _And he'll always have me_, he added to himself.

…

The next few days brought similar bouts of consciousness from Kurt. He never stayed awake long and only ever managed to speak a couple of whispered words, but it was a comfort to everyone to see his eyes finally open. The doctors explained that these moments were definitely an improvement, but to not expect much from them. It would still be awhile before he would be aware of his surroundings when he woke up. But until then, progress was progress.

A story about the attack had run on the news for a few nights and Burt was shocked at the amount of anonymous well-wishers his family received. Some even sent donations to help with the hospital bills, which was a blessing in and of itself. To help with money, both McKinley High and Dalton Academy were holding fundraisers. Burt nearly broke down into tears when Dalton even waived their tuition fee for the rest of the year. He had only ever seen the hate that the world had for his son. Never would he have imagined that people would ever be this generous and supportive.

As the days progressed, the doctors were happy to report small improvements. The swelling in his brain had finally receded, though they were still wary as to whether or not permanent damage had been done (Burt had been briefed in a few of the most common issues; problems speaking or issues with vocabulary, moderate amnesia, decreased motor skills, things of that nature). His wounds were healing nicely; no infections so far. He would probably never have full function in his arm again, but considering how mangled it had been it was a miracle that it was healing at all.

It was on day nine that Kurt really woke up. It was a Wednesday morning, so the other kids were at school (how they managed to pay attention and focus on their classes, Burt had no idea). Burt was sitting in the cushioned chair next to Kurt, flipping through the channels on the TV when he heard possibly the best noise in the world.

"Dad?"

Burt turned so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. A smile broke out on his face as he saw Kurt's eyes open, more open than the previous times, and looking directly at him.

"Kurt, oh my God, Kurt, you're awake," he exclaimed, grasping his boy's hand. The teen's eyes were slightly out of focus but it didn't matter because they were looking at _him._ "How are you feeling?" he asked his son, briefly wondering if he should get a doctor in here while he was awake and alert.

"Head hurts," murmured Kurt, his voice coming out slightly raspy from disuse.

"We can get you some more medicine, don't worry," replied Burt comfortingly.

Kurt gave the slightest of nods. His eyes slowly scanned the room, eyeing the flowers that people had brought and then moving to the equipment that he was attached to. "Hospital? What happened?" he asked slowly, turning his eyes back to his father.

Burt didn't have the heart to fully explain, not right now. Not yet. "You got hurt pretty bad," he settled on. "But the doctors say you're gonna be fine," he added with a nod.

Kurt seemed to accept this. He didn't ask for more details at least. He shut his eyes briefly and then sleepily looked back to his father. "'m kinda tired," he said softly.

Burt nodded and gently squeezed his hand. "I know, son. Go back to sleep and get some rest. I'll be right here." He watched as his son gave a small nod and then fell back asleep. He smiled as he watched him sleep, relieved that things were finally starting to look up after this whole mess. He could truly believe that everything was going to be okay.

…

Throughout the next two days Kurt became more alert, staying awake for longer periods of time and speaking more and more each time. He was finally able to get out multiple whole sentences at a time instead of speaking in one- or two-word phrases. Everyone was elated at this milestone. But with this improvement came an unfortunate diagnosis.

"Your son appears to have some retrograde amnesia," explained one of the doctors outside the room on Friday morning. She had been inside talking with Kurt for the past twenty minutes or so, apparently just asking him questions and seeing how well he responded.

"Amnesia?" Burt's brows furrowed, taking in this new development. "Is that why he couldn't remember who Rachel and Mr. Schue were yesterday?" He recalled the devastated looks on their faces as Kurt asked who they were the previous evening. They both kept their composure but he could tell it bothered them. Hell, it bothered Burt as well. He didn't understand why Kurt would forget who they were.

The doctor nodded. "He'll remember some people and won't remember others. There's not much of a pattern as to who he'll remember and who he won't," she explained. "He also doesn't remember much about school or any of his extracurriculars," she added.

Burt let this sink in before asking, "He doesn't remember being in glee? It was always so important to him, how could he forget?"

The doctor smiled sympathetically. "No one is really sure why people forget certain things. But you son did experience extreme brain trauma. We're lucky he can even speak," she added, trying to add some good news.

"Is it… will this be permanent?" he asked. "Can't we like, jog his memory or something and make him remember that stuff?"

"It's very possible that he will regain some of his lost memories, though he will probably never remember being attacked. The brain has a way of blocking some things that are too painful or traumatic to remember," she explained. "He will probably remember most of it in time. Just try not to push him; it'll only frustrate him if he's unable to recall something that he should obviously know."

Burt gave a nod, showing his understanding. He removed his cap and ran a hand over his head. "Alright, doc. Thanks for explaining," he said.

The doctor smiled. "Of course. Oh, and make sure you let his visitors know so they won't be so shocked if he can't remember things," she added.

"Will do," Burt replied. _Let's hope he remembers all the right people_, he thought to himself as he walked back into the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Again, I just want to give all of you a shout-out for all of the views, adds, and reviews. I'm delighted that you all seem so enraptured by my little story here.I'm awed at the sort of attention it's getting; I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. ^_^  
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**Enjoy this next part and remember that reviews make me write faster!  
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Blaine drove to the hospital as soon as classes ended Friday afternoon. His parents had forbid him to miss class so he had to wait until they were over. He tried to make the hour and a half drive every day, but he couldn't afford to spend so much in gas. Finn and Mercedes both kept him updated and he was relieved that their texts were continually positive. His heart always stopped briefly when he received a text, jumping to the worst possibilities.

He got a text from Mercedes as he was driving along route 33. He carefully checked his phone, careful to keep his eyes on the road as he did so. The last thing he needed was to get into a car accident for texting while driving.

**From: Mercedes Jones**

_Hey, we're all chillin at the hospital. u comin?_

He smiled and one-handedly typed back a quick reply.

**To: Mercedes Jones**

_30 more mins_

Blaine put the phone in his cupholder as he continued to drive, trying to focus on the road. He hoped that Kurt would be awake when he got there. Finn said he'd been awake more often lately. Blaine wanted so badly to see Kurt doing well, to hear his sweet voice, see his smile, to hold his hand again…

He was shocked out of his thoughts when his phone vibrated again. He grabbed it and checked. Another text from Mercedes.

**From: Mercedes Jones**

_k. let someone know when u get here. need to talk b4 u see him_

Worry flashed across Blaine's face as he read the text. What did they have to talk to him about? Was something wrong? He texted back a single word: _why_.

Something must not be right. This couldn't be good.

_You're overreacting_, he told himself, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. _If it was something really bad, she would have called and explained over the phone. It's not serious._

Another text. He checked it quickly.

**From: Mercedes Jones**

_Will explain when u get here. now stop txting and drive, boy! =)_

Blaine nodded at the phone and put it back in the cupholder. It couldn't be all bad if she'd added a smiley face at the end. He would be at the hospital soon enough.

…

He was briefed on the situation when he arrived and tried to brace himself for the possibility that Kurt wouldn't remember him. There was a silent unanimous decision among everyone (which included Burt, Carole, Finn, Rachel, Mercedes and Puck) to let Blaine see Kurt alone since the boy was awake for the time being.

Rachel gave him a thumbs-up for encouragement as he walked inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

Kurt turned to look at him and Blaine felt his heart melt into a puddle. He just looked so pitiful and vulnerable. So defeated. Probably the most depressing part, no matter how silly it sounded, was the loss of Kurt's beloved hair. He was always so proud of it and, to be honest, Blaine loved his hair. It was just hair though; it would grow back. Most importantly, Blaine was happy to see that Kurt's eyes were open. They didn't have the same shine that he was used to, but he would take what he could get. Baby steps.

"Hey Kurt," he greeted, walking over and sitting next to him. "How are you feeling?" he asked. _Stupid question_, he berated himself. _It's obvious he feels like shit._

Kurt managed a slight shrug. "Not too bad, considering all this." He gestured with his head to the machines he was attached to (which was considerably less than when Blaine had first seen him). "They just gave me some pain meds not too long ago, so I don't hurt as much right now," he explained.

Blaine smiled, thrilled to the moon and back to see Kurt sitting up (well, leaning against the propped-up bed) and talking. "That's good, I suppose," he replied. "I'm so glad to see you doing better," he said, grinning as he grasped the boy's hand. "I've been practically pulling my hair out all week worrying about you."

Kurt's eyes flicked down to where Blaine had grabbed his hand, the slightest look of confusion on his face. Worried he had done something to hurt him, Blaine let go. "Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," he hastily apologized.

"No, it didn't hurt, it's just…" Kurt looked up into Blaine's eyes, studying his face, almost as if…

_Oh no._ Blaine could feel his heart drop into his stomach as Kurt spoke. "…I'm really sorry, I've been trying but I can't remember you."

Blaine clenched his jaw for a moment, telling himself that this was okay. It didn't mean anything bad. He gave Kurt a small smile. "Don't worry about it," he said, surprised that his voice came out despite the knot in his throat. "I'm Blaine. We're classmates at Dalton," he explained. Classmates. What was he supposed to say? _We're kind-of-but-not-officially dating?_

Kurt nodded slowly. "Dalton. That's the private school, right? The one Dad said I transferred to?"

Blaine gave an affirmative nod. "Yeah. You've been going there for about a month or so."

_This wasn't so bad, _he told himself._ Just don't take any of this stuff personally. He has no power over what he can and can't remember. Worst part is that we're back at square one on relationship terms. But that's okay. We can handle this._

There was a slight awkward silence as Blaine didn't know what else to say and Kurt was processing information.

"Hey, Blaine?" asked Kurt after a moment.

"Yeah?" He looked over into Kurt's eyes, the same eyes that had always been full of so much spark and personality. The same eyes that he had truly fallen for.

"Are we really close?"

The question more or less broke Blaine's heart. How was he supposed to answer that? _Yes, we spend obscene amounts of time with each other in which we both fantasize about how we will declare our love to the other._ Somehow, Blaine didn't think it was appropriate to force that on him at this moment. He just hoped it wouldn't take long to get back to the point where they had left off.

In response, he finally gave a somber nod. "Yeah, we're pretty close," he replied, trying to keep his emotion out of his face.

Content with that answer, Kurt sighed. "Then I'd assume you know a lot about me, right?" Blaine gave another nod, wondering where these questions were going. But nothing could have prepared him for the next words that came out of Kurt Hummel's mouth.

"Do I have a girlfriend?"

Blaine couldn't stop the surprised look that jumped to his face. He felt his eyes get wide for a moment, his eyebrows raise and his mouth open slightly in shock before he had the control to straighten his face out.

"A-a _girlfriend_?" he clarified, wondering if he'd misheard.

But Kurt nodded, his face showing nothing but seriousness. "I mean… last night this girl came in, Rachel, and she seemed to be really upset when I couldn't remember who she was. I thought maybe we were dating, or had been, or something… I mean, she's pretty cute…" he drifted off, slightly embarrassed by his ramble.

Blaine studied Kurt hard. Was he joking? Did he honestly think that he had been dating Rachel Berry? _Rachel? _Couldn't he have at least imagined someone with a better personality, like Mercedes?

He didn't realize that he'd spaced out until he heard Kurt calling his name. "Blaine? I take it that's a no on the girlfriend question?"

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah," answered Blaine lamely. He focused his eyes on Kurt, trying to see through the ruse. This _had _to be some sort of joke or prank. "You… you don't remember that you're…" Blaine couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

"Single?" Kurt supplied, oblivious to what Blaine had been about to ask. "Apparently not." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Hey, I'm really sorry to cut this short, but some sort of medicine is kicking in and I'm getting drowsy." He opened his eyes and looked at Blaine. He did indeed look suddenly exhausted.

The older boy gave a nod. "I'll go and let you get some rest, then."

Whatever was in his system must have hit hard and fast because Kurt had time to utter a 'thanks for coming' before he was out like a light. Blaine got to his feet and walked over to the door. He felt like he was walking through a haze and that his legs were made of lead. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Everyone was sitting in a small visiting lobby just a few doors down and he went over to give his report.

Rachel was the first to her feet, a huge expectant grin on her face. "How did it…" She cut herself off when she saw the look on Blaine's face. "Oh," she muttered.

"Aw, Blaine, he didn't even remember you?" asked Mercedes, shaking her head sympathetically. "I definitely thought he would. You're pretty much all he's talked about the past couple of weeks."

"It's not just that," said Blaine, slumping down into an armchair. He was elated and heartbroken at the same time that Kurt had apparently been talking about him a lot lately. It didn't seem to matter anymore, though. He tried to keep himself composed as he addressed the others and was very surprised at how well he delivered his next line.

"Kurt doesn't remember he's gay."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: IMPORTANT! Please note that, while I did some basic research on the topic, I'm not entirely sure if this is how this type of amnesia would work. My sources all say it's really rare so I wasn't able to find a lot on it. So I claim mild artistic license on the topic. Sue me. =P**

**Again, thanks to everyone for the reviews and adds! They keep me going! Someone asked if there was going to be any romance in the story. My answer is... maybe/yes. But, as has been made apparent by Kurt's confusion, it will be complicated.**

**Enjoy this next chapter! I'm not sure how frequent the next few will be with the holidays right around the corner, so bear with me!  
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It was called dissociative amnesia, dissociative fugue, or psychogenic amnesia. The way the doctors explained it, it was a pretty rare disorder in which a person forgets critical information about their personal identity. It wasn't the same as the retrograde amnesia Kurt was also experiencing; that type was caused by some sort of head trauma. Dissociative amnesia was more due to extreme stress or emotional trauma. It usually went away within days or weeks, but there have been cases where it lasted for months on end.

The way the doctors figured it, the attack on him (obviously a hate crime against his sexual preference) was so traumatic that his brain sort of shut off the causes for him being attacked. Call it a safety feature; if you don't exhibit certain traits that appear to be detrimental to your survival then you will be able to survive longer. In Kurt's case, being gay was making him a target for violence so, after the extreme act of violence on behalf of that fact, his brain decided to essentially get rid of that part of his identity to ensure it wouldn't happen again.

When Blaine had delivered the news to those in the waiting room, he had been met first with confused silence before everyone seemed to have something to say.

"That doesn't make any sense…"

"How do you _forget _you're gay?"

"Can amnesia even do that?"

"So someone actually punched the gay out of him?" Puck had gotten a few nasty looks for that statement and an indignant cry of _Inappropriate!_ from Rachel before rectifying it with, "I'm gonna find those bastards and kill each and every one of them with my bare hands."

"Wait, so does that prove that being gay isn't a choice? It's in the brain, right?"

"Definitely wasn't a choice for me, Finn…"

The conversations that followed included a detailed description of what Kurt had said to Blaine, concerns on whether this new development would be permanent, and whether or not they should enlighten Kurt as to what he was forgetting about himself. Once they had spoken with the doctors, they were encouraged to not bring the subject up; it would most likely fix itself in time. Exactly how long it would take was impossible to determine. They would all just have to be patient and wait.

As the days went on, they began to notice just how strange it was that Kurt seemed to be an entirely new person. Rachel had brought him a book full of the intricate costumes used on Broadway to try and pass the time. He had smiled and flipped through the pages, but it was obvious he was doing it just so he wouldn't be rude. He didn't seem truly interested. When watching TV, he skipped over _Project Runway_, _Say Yes to the Dress_, and _Grey's Anatomy _in favor of sports programs, _Mythbusters, _and, to his father's surprise, _The Deadliest Catch_. The atmosphere in the hospital room turned awkward at moments like this, but everyone tried their best to cope with it.

Burt was having a difficult time with the whole thing. He loved his son more than anything. His eccentricities were endearing but it seemed like they were all gone. He'd never really thought of his son as gay. He was just Kurt. There was no other way to describe him, no label that would truly fit. He wasn't sure what to do with this boy who was just so… not-Kurt. Sure, he wasn't going to lie and say he didn't enjoy their recent conversations on which plays during the football games were good and which ones had utterly failed, but it just didn't seem natural. His Kurt didn't know the difference between a field goal and a touchdown.

"Hey, Dad?" he asked one afternoon before the kids were set to get out of school (it was the last day of classes before Christmas break so they were bound to be visiting much more often).

"Yeah?" replied Burt, flipping through an automotive magazine.

"Why has everyone been acting so weird around me?" he asked curiously. Burt looked up from the magazine, cursing himself inwardly. Of course he would notice everyone's uptight behavior. His head may be slightly addled but that didn't mean he was completely oblivious.

Burt rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how he should answer. "Well… I think just seeing you in the hospital like this makes them a little uncomfortable," he settled on. It seemed like a legit answer to him. His condition had improved immensely during the past two weeks. He was no longer attached to anything save for the instruments that tracked his vitals. He skin was no longer covered in one gigantic bruise, but now just a few small ones that were slowly fading. He wasn't covered in so many bandages anymore, though his head and torso were still wrapped a bit. The docs said the bones in his leg and arm were healing as expected (which meant the leg would make a full recovery and his arm would heal but he wouldn't have full use out of it). All in all, the doctors were very impressed with his recovery and even said he may be able to go home for Christmas.

Kurt, however, did not look satisfied with this answer. "So Mercedes' flabbergasted expression when I mentioned how gay of a show _Project Runway _was had everything to do with me being in the hospital?" Kurt raised a brow over a still slightly bruised eye and looked at his father questioningly.

"Look, Kurt…" Burt sighed and adjusted himself in his seat. Mercedes had apparently been thrown-off by Kurt's cavalier use of the word 'gay'. "You remember what the docs told you? About the amnesia?"

"Which amnesia?" clarified Kurt with an amused snort. "I've apparently got multiple types."

"I don't remember the name… the one to do with personal identity or something like that," replied Burt.

Kurt nodded. "So people are uncomfortable because I'm acting different than they're used to." It wasn't so much a question as a statement.

_If only you knew how different_, thought Burt as he gave a nod.

"It's not like it's my fault," huffed Kurt, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know how they want me to act."

"I know, kiddo, I know," he consoled, patting Kurt's good arm. "They're just trying to figure you out, is all. They're confused, I guess."

"They can't be as confused as I am," grumbled the teen. He sighed and shook his head. "I just want this stuff to go away. I'm tired of people talking about things I can't remember. I'm tired of people giving me weird looks when I apparently say something I'm not supposed to. I want things to go back to normal." At this, he gave a derisive snort. "I don't even know what normal is!" He blinked his eyes furiously, obviously trying to hold back tears.

Burt couldn't see to see his son so frustrated. It broke his heart. "Just give it time. The docs said the amnesia should only be temporary."

"Should," muttered Kurt under his breath.

…

The next day brought what seemed like a party in the small hospital room. With classes finally out at both McKinley and Dalton, the room was filled with teens gossiping, laughing, and sharing stories (with how well Kurt had been doing lately, Burt had reluctantly gone back to work so he and Carole were both out). A few members of the Warblers had accompanied Blaine to see Kurt (and, Blaine suspected, some of the Cheerios who were in attendance), so the room was also filled with people reminiscing about Sectionals.

Kurt caught snippets of the different conversations going on around the room, content to listen while those in his immediate vicinity (Blaine, Wes, Santana and Brittany) had rambled on to some other topic.

"… and so we all went and saw Santa…"

"… just looked at him with these big, dreamy eyes that totally begged to be…"

"… don't think we should be giving you tips. We're competing against each other…"

"… no one cares about the fact that Brett Favre retired like, three times…"

"… understand that it's not his fault, but you'd think that he'd still remember his total infatuation with…"

"… totally butchered that ancient history essay yesterday. I mixed up the Olmecs and the Toltecs…"

"Kurt!"

Kurt blinked at looked at Blaine, who had said his name. The older boy had a patient smile on his face. "Distracted much?" he asked.

"Sorry. There's just a lot going on," apologized Kurt with a small grin. "What was the question?"

Wes chuckled. "We asked what you wanted for Christmas. Brittany suggested… what was it?" he asked, turning to the blonde cheerleader.

"You need a talking parrot so that it can tell you everything you forget," explained the girl seriously. "I was going to get you one, but the guy at the pet store wouldn't take my gold coins for payment. They were chocolate." She leaned in close and lowered her voice. "I told him it was for a pirate since you've only got one leg and one arm," she whispered to him with a knowing look.

Kurt stared at Brittany in bewilderment. He was able to recall some of her previous antics and otherwise less-than-brilliant moments but experiencing them once again was a bit jarring. "Uhm… thanks?" he said, unsure of the proper response to something like that. "But I don't think I need a talking parrot."

Santana gave Brittany a comforting pat on the shoulder as the blonde sat back in her seat. "That's okay. I'll get you an eyepatch and a hook instead."

Wes smirked. "Anyway, Kurt," he said, looking back at him. "C'mon, spill. What do you want for Christmas? It's only a week away," he added, as if that made matters more drastic.

Kurt thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Honestly? I just want out of this place," he admitted. "I'm going a bit stir-crazy. I'm tired of lying in this bed twenty-four-seven. I just want to go home, curl up in a comfortable bed, maybe play some video games, watch some movies, eat real food…"

Wes and Blaine shared some sort of look between each other that Kurt was unable to identify. He'd gotten used to seeing it a lot lately. It was the glance that people tended to share with someone else whenever he said something… off. The look was a mixture between sadness, confusion, and resignation. And it suddenly made him really angry at how frequently it had been occurring.

"Okay, you have _got _to stop doing that!" burst out Kurt, a little louder than intended. Most conversations in the room stopped and looked in his direction.

Wes and Blaine were suddenly flustered, aware that they had done something and now all eyes were on them. "Doing what?" asked Blaine in a maddeningly calm voice.

"You people keep exchanging these… _looks_… whenever I talk about certain things! You think I don't notice?" he looked around the room, letting everyone know that he was addressing the whole assembly now instead of just the two boys next to him. "Look, I get that I've got this messed up thing going on with my head right now, but I don't need you guys to be constantly reminding me of it! You think it's just a walk in the park for me to have to sit here and try to remember names or that one time when so-and-so said that one thing? You think it's _easy _for me to realize that I'm _obviously _not who you guys want or expect me to be?" His voice was steadily beginning to rise. Everyone in the room looked outwardly nervous and uncomfortable.

"No one is insinuating that this is easy for you, Kurt," said Blaine slowly, looking Kurt in the eye. "We're all trying to be here for you. We're all your friends."

"Yeah, man," cut in Finn. "I mean, we all love you. We wanna help you out—"

"You aren't helping me by giving each other these side-long glances all the time! It's like I'm being kept out of some sort of big secret!" Kurt glared at the room at large and noticed a few eyes twitch and meet with other twitchy eyes at his recent outburst. "See! You're doing it again! If you guys can't talk to me without holding in whatever is bothering you, then just… just go away. I really don't need this right now."

There was a tense silence in the room. Everyone seemed to be waiting to see if someone would spill the 'big secret' that no one seemed willing to tell him.

Then a voice from the back of the room announced, "Kurt, dude, you're gay."

* * *

**A/N: Uh-oh. Who spilled the beans? And how will Kurt react?**


	5. Chapter 5

**So, sorry this chapter took awhile. Between the holidays and writer's block I had a difficult time getting this one hashed out. But it's here now, so I hope you enjoy! Be sure to leave reviews on what you think!**

* * *

_"Kurt, dude, you're gay."_

Every head in the room turned and glared at Noah Puckerman, but he ignored all of them and kept his eyes on Kurt.

"And you are apparently a jackass," retorted Kurt angrily, narrowing his eyes at the football player. The boy obviously didn't understand the statement for what it really was.

"No, like, _really_," insisted Puck. "You _are _gay. You bat for the other team. You prefer hot dogs to tacos. You're queerer than a three dollar bill. You—"

"That's _enough!_" exclaimed Rachel, looking appalled at Puck's string of euphemisms.

"What? I'm trying to help, here!" Puck defended, raising his hands.

"You are _not _helping! You're being completely inconsiderate and rude!"

"Hey, someone had to let him know, alright!"

"You don't have to be so unbearably blunt about it!"

Blaine took his eyes off of the arguing students and looked at Kurt. The younger boy was staring at his sheets as if they held the answers to all of his problems. His brows were narrowed and his jaw was clenched slightly. He looked confused, contemplative and concerned.

"Kurt?" he asked tentatively, placing a comforting hand on the boy's arm.

He was taken aback when Kurt flinched and withdrew his arm from Blaine's touch. "Don't touch me," he requested sharply, not meeting Blaine's eyes.

Blaine quickly complied, muttering an apology. He tried not to meet Wes' eyes; he knew his teammate was looking at him and Blaine didn't want to see the sorrowful and pitying look he was sure was there. He also didn't want Wes to see the obvious hurt that was in his own eyes.

_He doesn't mean it_, he tried to convince himself. _He's not himself. Just give it time, he'll come around._

Puck and Rachel were still arguing, though by now Finn had joined in. Kurt looked up at everyone in the room; some people were watching him but most people were focused on the argument.

"I want you all to leave," spoke up Kurt, loud enough to make sure everyone heard him.

The argument halted in mid-insult, everyone's eyes turning to look at Kurt.

"Kurt, c'mon man, don't be like that," said Finn, practically pleading.

"We can talk about this," added Rachel. "Puck's just…"

"Out." The tone was laced with bitter finality. Nervous glances were exchanged throughout the room as people wordlessly got to their feet and exited the room. Brittany and Santana both left (Brittany quietly asked why the pirate was angry) leaving Wes and Blaine sitting by Kurt. With a nod, the two Warblers rose to their feet, slowly taking their leave. Blaine stole one last glance before walking out. Mercedes was trying to talk Kurt to his senses but he was remaining adamant that everyone needed to leave.

Once in the hallway, the two Warblers met up with their other teammates David and Nick. The tree boys looked at Blaine. He wished they wouldn't. Wes placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but Blaine looked up and spoke before he had the chance. "I'm fine, guys." He looked them each in the eye, aware of Finn walking in their direction from behind David. "Really," he added, giving them his most convincing _drop-it-or-I'll-make-your-life-miserable _look. It seemed to work because Wes dropped his hand and the other two gave him a nod.

Finn made it over to their small group, looking disheveled and nervous. "Hey guys," he greeted, not very familiar with the other Warblers. "Look, I'm sorry about what happened in there. Puck's just…" he sighed and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.

Blaine gave the boy a reassuring smile. "There's nothing to apologize for, Finn. None of it was your fault." He glanced down the hallway to where Puck was having a quiet but heated argument with Santana. "I'm sure he had good intentions." No matter how inappropriate and badly timed his outburst had been, Blaine was fairly certain that Puck hadn't meant any harm.

Finn gave a small nod and a half-smile. "Probably, but still…" He sighed and looked at the ground for a moment, looking as if he was about to say something really uncomfortable. David, always the considerate one, took that moment to announce that they were going to go heat up the car (which was apparently a three-person job) and left them.

Once the others had gotten out of earshot, Finn finally spoke again. "I just feel really bad for the way Kurt keeps treating you."

At this, Blaine raised a curious eyebrow as if he was unsure what Finn was talking about. In all honesty, he knew for certain what the football player was going to mention, but Blaine wanted to play it off like it wasn't a big deal.

"I saw how he acted when you touched him, and I saw your face afterwards," admitted Finn, not meeting Blaine's eyes. He was obviously uncomfortable talking about his step-brother's "friendship", which Blaine could understand. "I just don't want you to get too upset about it, y'know?" Finn chanced a glace up at Blaine, who was carefully keeping his face calm and impassive.

"I appreciate the concern, Finn," replied Blaine, choosing his words carefully. "I'm fully aware of the consequences of Kurt's condition. I promise you that I'm not taking it personally. I'm not letting it bother me." Okay, that last part was a lie, but Finn didn't need to know that.

Finn nodded slowly, not entirely convinced that Blaine was being truthful. "I just… it's really weird, y'know? I hardly know what to say around him these days. I can't even imagine how hard it is for you. I mean, you two were…" Finn paused, awkwardly trying to find a suitable phrase. "You two were really close and I know you have a different sort of… relationship with him and stuff and…" He rubbed the back of his neck again, looking uncomfortable with the direction his rambling had taken.

But Blaine just gave him a comforting smile. The guy was endearing, as Kurt had said multiple times. "It's alright Finn, honestly. You don't have to worry about my feelings in this whole ordeal. I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself," he reassured the other boy with a small smirk.

"Oh, I know you can take care of yourself, I didn't mean…" Finn stumbled over his words, trying to get out what he actually meant.

From across the hall, a blonde boy that Blaine recognized but didn't know (it was an S name, he was sure. Shawn maybe?) spoke up. "Drop it, Finn. I think he gets it." The blonde boy zipped up his coat and started fishing in his pockets for car keys. "You don't have to keep making yourself look like a blubbering idiot."

"But I think he's cute when he's a blubbering idiot," commented the blonde cheerleader who was standing next to him, pulling a warm hat over her head. There was an uncomfortable pause after her statement where Finn, the blonde boy and the cheerleader all exchanged awkward glances. Blaine had no idea what had just happened, but the tension was thick.

The blonde boy cleared his throat, turning to the girl. "So! I think it's time for us to go, yeah? Catch ya around, Finn!" With that, he put his arm around the girl (kind of possessively, thought Blaine) and they walked off, having a whispered discussion.

Finn's eyes were wide in what Blaine recognized as confusion and embarrassment as he turned back to him. "So… yeah. I don't even remember what I was saying," he said, chuckling nervously.

"I was reminding you that you don't need to worry about my feelings getting bruised," offered Blaine. He looked at his watch and decided that his friends were probably getting tired of waiting for him. "Anyway, I should take off. Wes and the boys are waiting for me."

"Oh yeah, sure, sorry for holding you up," muttered Finn. "Uh, drive safe. It's supposed to start snowing soon." Blaine nodded and they exchanged the obligatory round of 'keep me updated' 'okay, see you later' with an added 'Merry Christmas' since the holiday was only a few days away.

Walking out to the car, hands shoved into his pockets, Blaine let his mask fall momentarily as his face contorted with repressed emotions. This situation _was _bothering him. The way that Kurt had shrugged him off earlier was upsetting to say the least. He wanted to think that the boy simply didn't want to be touched by anyone at that particular moment and that it had nothing to do with the fact that _he _had been the one to touch him. He didn't want to think of the possibility that _his _touch had disgusted Kurt.

Blaine continued to tell himself that this would all blow over soon. He would be back to normal soon and then they could all have back the Kurt they knew and loved. Their Kurt.

_His _Kurt.

* * *

Kurt had been unusually terse the next couple of days. The only people he allowed in were his family and, because she begged and threatened to cry, Mercedes. Each time Finn or Mercedes tried to bring up what had happened, Kurt abruptly changed the topic. He just needed time to think.

He didn't _feel _gay. How was he supposed to know, anyway? He tried to imagine himself kissing some of the boys who had been visiting (Sam, Blaine, Puck, Mike, Wes, and even Artie) but found himself repulsed by the idea. He didn't even find any of them attractive! Santana and Brittany, on the other hand… they were definitely easy on the eyes.

If he was supposed to be gay, then why did he think some of the girls were hot? Shouldn't he be enraptured by the boys?

It was all so confusing when he tried to think about it too much, so he tried to push it out of his mind most of the time and focused on whatever was going on around him at the moment.

After a couple days of running tests, the doctors finally gave the all-clear for him to go home as long as they returned immediately if something went wrong. His dad helped Kurt stumble around the hospital room before they left; he pretty much had to re-learn how to walk with an obtrusive cast around his left leg. Kurt was just thankful that his leg wasn't so bad that he needed crutches or a wheelchair (though he was provided crutches should he need them). His arm, on the other hand, was to remain both in a cast and a sling for quite a few more weeks (possibly months). The doctors didn't want him moving it more than necessary and so required it to be in a sling at all times. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but Kurt supposed he could deal with it.

Kurt was glad that he was able to remember his house. He lumbered through the hallway, taking in the familiar sights and smells of home. There were some boxes scattered around, preparing for the move to a bigger home that had been put on hold due to recent events. Other than the boxes, the house looked more or less like he remembered it.

While walking towards the kitchen, Kurt caught his reflection in a hall mirror. He stopped and looked at himself for the first time in three weeks. He had numerous healing cuts on his face, one eye was still slightly bruised, his face seemed a lot thinner than he remembered it and, most shocking, was the short brown fuzz in the place where his hair used to be. Kurt ran his left hand (the good one) over his growing hair; it felt prickly and foreign, not to mention the contact made his tender head throb slightly.

"I look like shit," he commented to himself.

Burt, who had been following him through the house, gave a sad smile. "You look a lot better than you did when they brought you in, kiddo."

Kurt turned and looked at his father, concern in the older man's eyes. "Dad… did they ever find out who did it?"

He was surprised at himself that this was the first time he'd asked this question. Kurt had been sitting in the hospital for weeks and never once did he ask about how he had ended up in there or who had done it. The thought had never really crossed his mind.

His dad looked a bit taken-aback by the suddenness of the question. He heaved a sigh and hesitated, either not comfortable talking about the topic or simply unwilling to relay the information. When Kurt didn't look away, Burt finally broke the silence. "It was a couple of football jocks," he said heavily. "The cops got an anonymous tip a couple of days afterwards, took the guys in for questioning and they confessed," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "They had to pay a fine and are both spending a good amount of time in juvie," he said, a flash of anger in his eyes. "One of them will be eighteen soon, so he'll get to finish his sentence in jail." Burt shook his head, as if clearing the rest of his thoughts. He looked down at Kurt, whose attention hadn't left him. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Anyway, they're locked up now and can't get to you, so you don't have to worry about them anymore."

Kurt gave his father a nod and turned back to the mirror, studying what remained of his injuries. So he had been the victim of a random act of violence by some beefy football jocks? And by the way his dad had said spoken, it sounded like being the victim to these sorts of things wasn't exactly a new occurrence. Something seemed a little off the whole thing (something made him think that maybe it wasn't a _random _act of violence), but he didn't think too much on it. All he knew was a sudden rising urge to make sure nothing like this happened to him again. He didn't want to ever see his dad in the state that he had been in the past couple of weeks. He didn't want to have to put up with the shitty hospital beds and the bad food. He didn't want to spend any more time recovering.

That's when he made a vow to himself right then and there. Kurt Hummel wasn't going to let himself be the victim anymore. He would make certain that no one laid another hand on him. He wasn't going to stand around and let himself be a punching bag like he had apparently been doing for the past few years. He was prepared to do whatever necessary to rip off whatever target had been on his back and show people he was not to be messed with anymore. He would make them sorry they had ever touched him.

* * *

**So Kurt is finally going to stand up for himself. That's a good thing... right?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Alrighty, here's the next chapter! I know the past couple haven't been too exciting, but I promise things will be picking up soon.**

**I'm not sure when I'll be able to get the next chapter up. I'm flying back to school tomorrow and then will need to get ready for my insane classes that start next week. I'll get it posted as soon as I can.**

**Just want to say thanks again to everyone for all of your kind words and support for this story. Each alert and review really means a lot and encourages me to keep writing. Y'all are super-great!  
**

* * *

Finn was surprised when he felt suddenly and totally awake the next morning. He sat up on his bed and stretched hugely. Running a hand through his messy bed-head, he investigated his bedside clock. The cheery green numbers seemed almost teasing as he read 9:53. He let out a disappointed groan. Why was he even awake at this time? It was Christmas break, he should be sleeping until at least noon! But he was oddly awake, so he knew it would be useless trying to go back to sleep.

As he moved to get up he looked over to Kurt's bed and noticed that he was still sleeping soundly. Kurt was normally an early riser but, considering the circumstances, Finn supposed it shouldn't be odd that he was still sleeping at almost ten in the morning. The boy groaned softly in his sleep, turning his head in Finn's direction. Finn noticed a sort of pained look on Kurt's face. Was he not comfortable? Was he having a nightmare?

His question was answered as Kurt gave a loud gasp and sat up quickly in bed, eyes wide and staring forward. His breathing was heavy and he placed his hand over his chest, as if checking for a wound that wasn't there.

Finn was silent for a moment. Perhaps that was why he was so awake. Kurt must have been making noises in his sleep that woke him up. He hesitated before speaking, not wanting to give the boy any more of a scare than he had apparently just had.

"…Kurt?" he asked tentatively.

Kurt whipped his head in Finn's direction, still breathing as if he'd just finished a race. "Finn! Sorry, I just…" He was still gripping his chest, fingers twisted in the fabric of his pajamas. He allowed himself a few more breaths. "Nightmare."

Finn nodded, aware of the fact that it had been some sort of nightmare. "About what?" he asked, curious.

Kurt's brows knitted together as he looked down at his blankets, eyes quickly roving over the stitching. He was silent for a moment before he quietly answered, "I can't remember. But it was bad."

Finn briefly wondered if he had been having a nightmare about being attacked, but pushed the thought away for the time being. No use on wondering if Kurt couldn't remember anything about it. He wouldn't know how to comfort the boy at any rate; Finn wasn't good with those sorts of things. "Well, whatever it was, it's over now," he said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. Kurt simply nodded, which was good enough for Finn. "C'mon, let's go see what Mom's fixing for breakfast," he offered, getting to his feet. "I'll bet it's ten times better than that crap from the hospital."

Kurt managed a small chuckle, trying to shake away the ghost feelings of his nightmare. "At least the hospital had better food than the cafeteria at McKinley," he countered, scooting over to the edge of his bed and dangling his legs over the side. The leg in the cast made a sort of dull thump as the foot made contact with the ground.

Finn stood next to Kurt's bed, ready to spring into action if the boy needed his help. "I think cat food is better than McKinley school lunches," he added with a grin as Kurt carefully got to his feet.

Kurt smiled tiredly and waved Finn away, silently protesting his unoffered help. "I can walk on my own, thanks," he said, taking a few lopsided steps toward the stairs. Had he been fully awake, Finn was sure that he would have received one of Kurt's trademark evil-eye glares.

"I know you can," replied Finn, following behind his step-brother. "But you're still half-asleep and I don't want you hurting yourself.

Kurt just shook his head as he started his slow journey up the stairs. He had ignored his father's protests the night before and demanded that he get to sleep in his own bed in the basement. Finn followed behind him as Kurt walked up the stairs one-by-one, gripping the handrail with his left hand for support. After going up about a third of the way, Kurt stopped.

"You alright, man?" asked Finn, curious as to why he had stopped suddenly.

"Can you… not walk behind me like that?" asked Kurt, not turning around to face Finn. "No offense, but it kind of creeps me out."

Finn furrowed his brows, confused as to why he was creeping out Kurt by simply walking behind him. "Uhh, sure, just…" He stepped around Kurt until he was a few steps ahead of him. "Better?" he asked, unable to keep the confused sarcasm out of his voice.

His step-brother just nodded, still not meeting his eyes as if he was embarrassed by something. Finn dropped it for the moment and darted up the stairs.

"Hey, Mom? What's for breakfast, I'm starving," he announced, walking through the living room and then into the kitchen in search for his mother (she was usually up by this time). He found a note on the kitchen table in his mom's neat handwriting.

_Burt and I went to the store to stock up on food now that everyone's home. Pancake mix in the cabinet; you should be able to manage that._

She had added a little smiley face after the last sentence and Finn shook his head. He definitely wasn't the world's best cook and usually left the meals to his mom. But he thought he could handle pancakes.

When Kurt appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, Finn turned and gave him a goofy grin. "Pancakes?

* * *

When Burt and Carole returned home forty-five minutes later, both boys were sitting at the table eating cereal (Kurt somewhat awkwardly feeding himself left-handed). The smell of burnt pancakes permeated through the air and the blackened evidence had been tossed in the trash can.

"I guess the pancake thing didn't work out then, huh?" asked Burt with a chuckle as he started putting away the groceries.

"Finn wanted them to cook faster and turned the heat up too much," explained Kurt, spooning the last of the Frosted Flakes into his mouth.

"I was hungry," mumbled Finn through a mouthful of food.

Carole laughed as she put a gallon of milk in the fridge. "You're eventually going to have to learn how to cook for yourself."

"Nuh-unh!" protested Finn. "I'm gonna live with your forever and you're gonna feed me for the rest of my life," he declared with a grin.

Kurt snorted, carefully rising from the table to put his empty bowl in the sink. "So you're perfectly content to spend the rest of your life leeching off of your mother's maternal instincts with no regard to how she may not want to coddle you past the age of eighteen?" he asked nonchalantly, rinsing his bowl.

"Uhh… yes?" Finn sounded confused as he thought about the question. "Wait, what?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless," he playfully insulted, smirking. "I don't know how you manage at school."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Finn looked as if he wasn't yet sure if he had just been insulted or not.

Burt shook his head from the pantry, having just finished putting away the last of the groceries. "Boys, be nice," he said, casting a glance to the two teens. "Speaking of school, though," he announced, clearing his throat and closing the pantry door. "We need to talk about that, Kurt."

Kurt raised his brow at his father. "Oh?" he intoned curiously. "Well, I was actually hoping to talk with you about school as well."

It was Burt's turn to look surprised. "Oh, well, alright then." He sat down at the table, glancing over at Carole as she took a seat next to Finn. "What did you want to talk about, kiddo?"

Kurt pressed his lips together as he thought about how this should be phrased. He had been thinking about it for the past few days and knew that the topic needed to be breeched before classes resumed in January (assuming he was well enough to attend at that point). "I've been thinking," he started, leaning against the counter. He decided against it when the countertop pressed into an area of his back that was still tender. Kurt settled for sitting in the empty chair instead. "I want to go back to McKinley."

He watched the reactions of his family members around him. Burt immediately shook his head while Finn just stared at him in some sort of shock. Carole looked confused but willing to listen.

"Absolutely not," retorted Burt, his eyes staring at his son. "I'm not letting you go back to that place after all of this."

"You said the guys were in juvie," replied Kurt matter-of-factly. "It's not like they'd be back anytime soon."

"It doesn't matter, Kurt. You're better at Dalton with their zero-tolerance policy. Besides, you love it there," added Burt, gesturing with his hands. "Why would you want to leave?"

Kurt had this whole conversation worked out. It was perfect. "It's just too expensive, and with all these hospital bills and the physical therapy the doctors said I'm going to need for my arm, I don't want you to have to worry about paying for school on top of it."

Carole gave Kurt a warm smile. "Didn't you know, honey? Dalton waived your tuition fees, considering the circumstances. And both of the schools have raised a bit of money to help," she added, smiling over at Finn and placing her hand on his.

_Shit_, thought Kurt. Flaw in the plan. He had not previously been aware that Dalton would continue to let him attend free of charge. "Oh." He fiddled with the strap on his sling.

"You don't need to worry about the money, Kurt," reassured his father. "You just focus on getting better. You can go back to school when you're feeling up to it. Back to Dalton," he emphasized.

Unsure of how he was going to work around this snag at the moment, Kurt gave his father a meek nod. He just knew that he didn't want to go back to Dalton. He didn't want to go back to that all-boys school. Kurt couldn't really explain his sudden aversion to it, but the thought of going back there made him really uncomfortable. With Puck's recent outburst concerning his sexuality, perhaps that was why he was a little unwilling to go back to Dalton. He didn't want to be surround by so many _boys_. He was going to have to find some other way to get himself back to McKinley.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up," murmured Kurt, rising from the table and loping back toward the basement. His family watched him in silence, listening to the rhythmic _step-thud-step-thud _that his gait made.

Once he was out of earshot, Burt turned to Finn, his eyes narrow. "How has he been this morning?"

Finn shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I mean, he had some sort of nightmare that woke him up," he recalled. "Oh, and he got kind of weird when we were going upstairs," he added, suddenly remembering Kurt's odd behavior from earlier.

"Weird? Weird how?" demanded Burt, concerned.

"I dunno. He said I creeped him out when I walked behind him or something." Finn didn't know what that was supposed to mean or how he was supposed to read into that.

Burt nodded, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. "Just… just make sure you keep an eye on him," he said to Finn. "The docs said he might have some… off… behavior. The only reason they even allowed him to come home was the fact that we swore he wouldn't be left alone." He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. "I just wish I could take some more time off work…"

Carole put a comforting hand on his arm. "Kurt's fine with Finn while he's home. And when he goes back to school, Blaine and the other boys will look after him. You don't need to get yourself so worked up, honey."

"I know, I know," replied Burt, heaving a sigh. "I just can't help but worry about him."

"Well, you don't need to worry, Burt," declared Finn with a firm nod. "I'll take care of him until he goes back to school. And I know Blaine won't let anything happen."

Burt smiled and nodded. "I know, kiddo."

Finn got to his feet and decided to make good on his word and go downstairs to see if Kurt needed help with anything. He thumped loudly down the stairs and was surprised to see Kurt standing in front of his open closet, a look of disgust on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, wondering if there was a dead possum or something in the closet.

"There are way too many clothes," intoned Kurt, shaking his head. "Fashion-conscious much?" he muttered to himself.

Finn bit down on his lip. The old Kurt would never complain about there being too many clothes. "Well, how about we just find something that you can fit your broken limbs into, huh?"

"I'm not wearing this crap," said Kurt, looking over at Finn. "Don't I own any plain clothes? This stuff is all so g—" He cut himself off and decided to change the word that had been about to come out of his mouth. "Gaudy." He rifled through the neatly organized shirts that were hanging in the closet. "What sort of person needs this many clothes in the first place?"

Finn stood next to him, eyeing the contents of the closet. He had, on a few occasions, joked with Kurt about how many clothes he owned. The younger boy always held his head up high and explained the importance of being prepared for any event with a wide variety of clothing options. It seemed strange now that he was standing there mocking his own collection.

Finn scratched the back of his head, unsure of how to handle the situation. "Well, uh, you can always wear something of mine," he offered with a shrug. "I think I might have a small pair of sweatpants or something that won't be too huge on you. At least your gimp leg will fit in some sweats," he said with an attempt at humor, giving his step-brother a half-grin.

Kurt just shrugged. "Sure, whatever, I don't care. I just don't want to wear this shit." He closed the doors of his closet and made a noise that Finn couldn't really identify.

As he started rummaging around for some clothes of his that might fit Kurt, Finn couldn't help but think that keeping an eye on him was going to be a bit more difficult and unpredictable that he had originally thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay! My classes are going to have me absolutely swamped this quarter. I promise that I will finish this, though. You may just have to wait a week or two between updates. I more or less have the rest of this whole thing plotted out, I just have to find the time to get it all down.**

**Thanks again for all the alerts and reviews! You guys have no idea how excited I get when I see a new review in my inbox. They make me happier than I feel they really should.**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
**

* * *

"You coming upstairs anytime soon?"

Blaine tore his bloodshot eyes from the screen of his laptop and looked behind him to see Wes standing in the doorway of the common room. The other boy was in his pajamas and had a look of concerned amusement on his face. He knew he must look fairly amusing; he was wearing his glasses, his hair was sticking up at odd angles from where he had been running his fingers through it all night, and he knew he looked exhausted.

"I'll be up in a minute," he muttered, turning back to the comforting glow of the computer screen.

"Don't tell me you're on WebMD again," huffed Wes as he shuffled over to stand behind Blaine, peering at the screen. Sure enough, the title of the webpage was Mental Health: Dissociative Amnesia and, from the layout of the page, Wes could tell that it was, in fact, WebMD. "You know that site hasn't updated its information since you checked it this morning," he quipped.

Blaine rolled his eyes, unsure if he should be upset with his friend's comment or not. "I just want to be prepared for when Kurt gets back tomorrow," he grumbled, scrolling through the now-familiar page of information.

"Blaine," said Wes patiently, "throughout the past few weeks you have made it your life's mission to become an expert in both amnesia _and_ personality disorders. And, I will have you know, that because of your incessant rambling, everyone you hang out with is now an unwilling expert as well. I am sure you, and the rest of us here, are more than prepared to keep an eye on Kurt. Now, it's two o'clock in the morning. Go to bed."

"I just…" Blaine heaved a sigh. "I dunno. There is so much that could happen. I mean, what if he develops something else? What if he has some sort of emotional breakdown? What if he leaves?" Blaine turned in his seat to face his friend, worry and fatigue evident in his features.

"Why would he leave?" asked Wes. He already knew the response Blaine would give, but figured he would humor the boy and play along.

"It's a common symptom of people with this disorder to just get up and go somewhere else, creating a new identity for themselves because they can't remember who they are," rattled Blaine, unaware of Wes' waning attention. "People have been known to travel to different _countries_. And, even worse, some individuals are never able to retrieve their buried memories," he said, quoting the last sentence word-for-word, by memory, from the website.

Wes rubbed his forehead as he thought of the best way to approach this near-hysterical Blaine. "Listen. That other website said that usually happens near the _beginning _of the amnesia episode," explained Wes.

"I know, but—"

Wes held up his hand, interrupting Blaine. "Kurt is currently a gimp. He isn't going to be leaving anywhere in a hurry. He probably can't even drive very well."

"Yeah, but—"

"You are such a mother hen that you probably won't even let him go to the bathroom by himself—"

"I am _not_—"

"—let alone leave the country. There is nothing you can do about this—"

"But the website says—"

"—so let's just…" Wes expertly shut down Blaine's laptop with a couple of quick keystrokes. "There. Now, let's go to bed. You are in desperate need of sleep." As if to convince him, Wes picked up Blaine's laptop and held it cradled to his chest, staring pointedly at the other boy.

Blaine got to his feet, defeated, grumbling something rude under his breath.

"You can hate me all you want as long as you don't wake me up in the middle of the night with some sort of epiphany on musical hypnotic therapy or something," commented Wes, turning to walk back up the stairs to where their dormitories were.

Wes chose to ignore the names that Blaine was calling him; he tended to get nonsensical when he was deprived of sleep and Wes decided that being called a "farking astard bass" wasn't anything to get upset over anyway.

* * *

The next day passed by in a blur of activity. Kurt and his family arrived shortly after noon to get the boy settled back into Dalton. There was a lot of hustle and bustle, a lot of worried questions and curious glances and, much to the surprise of innocent bystanders in the dormitory, a lot of arguing.

"Dad, would you _please _just lay off? I can take care of myself!"

"I know you can take care of yourself, Kurt." Burt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation. "But you still haven't fully recovered. I wish you would think about this a little more before…"

"I _have _thought about it and I think I need some semblance of normalcy in my life right now!" exclaimed Kurt, thrusting a pair of crutches in the corner of his room. His face was red and blotchy, a typical feature of an angry Kurt. "The last thing I need is for you to be constantly fussing over me, okay?"

"Hey, I'm your father. I'm allowed to fuss about my son," replied Burt, doing his best to not raise his voice (even though Kurt was taking no such precaution). He was well aware of the fact that every boy in the building was probably listening to them argue.

"No, what _you _are doing is being completely overbearing and stifling!" yelled Kurt, rounding on his father as fast as his broken leg would allow. "You are practically suffocating me with your endless need to pamper me! I don't need, or _want_, you on my case all the time!"

"Now Kurt," cut in Carole, who had been standing by the bed awkwardly this whole time. She could see that Kurt's words were starting to have an effect on Burt, however, and she thought she should intervene before things got too out of hand. "I think you need to be reasonable here. Sure, maybe your dad has been a little overly cautious since you've been home, but can you blame him?" she asked, her voice kind and patient. "There is no need to get upset over something like this. Your dad's just worried about you, like any parent would be in his situation."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "No one else has a father who completely flips out every time they try to walk down a fucking flight of stairs!" he argued, gesturing toward his dad with his good arm.

"Hey!" growled Burt. "You watch your language!"

"Or what?" Kurt challenged. "You gonna ground me? From what?"

Their voices carried down the hallway and into the common room where a few boys were sitting trying to pretend that they weren't eavesdropping. Finn and Blaine occupied two cushioned chairs by the window, both obviously listening in to the argument.

"Has he been like this a lot lately?" asked Blaine, looking up to meet Finn's eyes. He had never really heard of Kurt arguing with his father like this before. From all the stories he heard, they got along very well. And Blaine had never known Kurt to really argue with anyone in the first place. Or swear, for that matter.

Finn sighed and looked suddenly uncomfortable. "The past couple of days, yeah. I dunno what his deal is. He just… I dunno. Snaps or something. He practically bitched me out last night when I asked him if he needed help packing up any of his stuff." He shook his head, recalling the incident. "He got all huffy and went on about how he didn't need to be coddled, or something like that." After a pause, he added, "I don't think I even know what that means."

Blaine looked down at the table, eying the pattern the grains made in the finished wood. "Anything else I should be on the lookout for?" he asked, starting to wonder what he had gotten himself into by agreeing to keep an eye on the boy.

Finn shrugged. "He's just… different. _Really_ different," he added for emphasis. "He's got this weird personal space bubble thing that he doesn't want anyone in. His temper is really short and it's really hard to tell what makes him upset anymore. He threw out a lot of his clothes."

"He did what?" asked Blaine, thrown off guard. Kurt loved his clothes! Why would he throw them out?

"Said they made him look gayer than Elton John," he said uncomfortably. "Burt found them, though, and put them all in bags. Figured that, y'know, when Kurt gets back to normal, he'd be pretty devastated if he was missing his designer stuff."

Blaine noticed the very intentional use of the word when. _When _Kurt gets back to normal. He was silent for a moment before speaking up again. "Do they have any idea how long it'll take?" he asked quietly, knowing that his question needed no clarification.

Finn hesitated before shaking his head. "They said most people snap out of it after a few days or a couple of weeks. We're getting close to a month now." Finn looked out the window, suddenly very interested in the melting snow that dotted Dalton's landscape (it was unseasonably warm for a January afternoon, but the weather channel promised more snow by the weekend. Gotta love that Ohio weather). "But they also said it could be permanent," he added.

_It could be permanent. _The words seemed to echo in Blaine's head. There was a possibility that they were all going to have to get used to this new constantly irritable Kurt. An irritable Kurt who was also apparently straight, he thought bitterly.

The boys were broken out of their respective thoughts as Burt entered the room. He looked worn and aged. His face held a mixture of hurt, anger and uncertainty as he lumbered over to where the two of them sat. He cleared his throat and looked down at Blaine. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course." Blaine quickly got to his feet and followed Burt out of the entrance of the common room and into the empty hallway. They were away from the dorms and so were free from being overheard, which was what Blaine assumed Burt intended.

They stopped next to a painting of some ancient benefactor of the school and Burt wasted no time in getting started. "Look, Blaine… it is Blaine, right?"

"Yessir."

"Alright. Blaine. I'm gonna be straight with you. I'm not comfortable with this arrangement," he said flatly. "I don't think Kurt is ready to go back to school given his… condition. I especially don't think that it should be this school, so far from home. But Kurt eventually started insisting on it and the docs said if he was feeling up to it… and now here we are." He heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his forehead with one of his hands. "I assume Finn has filled you in on everything?" he asked, looking at him wearily.

Blaine gave an affirmative nod. "I believe so, yes."

Burt fumbled around in the pocket of his vest and pulled out an orange prescription bottle that rattled with pills. "I'm giving these to you," he said, handing Blaine the bottle. "They're his pain meds. He doesn't need them all the time." He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was going to say next. "The docs don't think he would… misuse them but… but I think I would feel better if I knew that he didn't have instant access to them." Blaine could see how much it hurt him to admit that. Heck, he felt a stab in his own gut at the statement. The idea of Kurt possibly being suicidal hadn't even crossed his mind.

Blaine gave a nod of solemn understanding before slipping the bottle into the pocket of his jeans. "I'll keep a close eye on him, Mr. Hummel. I promise. I won't let anything happen to him."

"I know, I just…" Burt looked up at the ceiling and Blaine suddenly felt very uncomfortable as he realized that the man standing before him was trying to suppress tears. "You have my number, right? In case something happens?"

Blaine checked his phone. He had Kurt's cell and home number, and Finn's number, but not Burt's. The man gave him the number to his cell phone, the number to the garage where he worked, and Carole's cell and work numbers.

"You call me if anything happens, got it?" Blaine gave a nod in reply. "I mean it. Don't hesitate." There was a pause as Burt looked down at Blaine as if he were studying the boy. "I'm trusting you, Blaine. This isn't exactly easy, but I'm trusting that you and the rest of the boys will take good care of him."

Blaine nodded and gave Burt a reassuring smile. "You don't have anything to worry about, Mr. Hummel. Everything will be fine, I promise," he said, sounding more confident than he honestly felt.

Burt seemed satisfied (or, at least, as satisfied as possible given the circumstances). The two of them returned to the common room in silence and found the room exactly as they had left it. Burt left to return upstairs, followed shortly afterward by Finn. Blaine slumped down into a chair near Wes and David who were going over old notes in preparation for the start of classes tomorrow.

David gave Blaine a cautious glance. "So this is gonna be fun, yeah?" he said, mildly sarcastic.

Blaine just rolled his eyes. "We can handle this. It's not that big of a deal." It was just Kurt, after all. How difficult could he really be?

* * *

**Next time: How will Kurt handle the hustle and bustle of Dalton Academy for Boys? Also, the first Warblers rehearsal of the new year. Will Kurt be attending?**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Another chapter, yay! I actually had most of this written after I posted the last one, but alas, the siren and unyielding call of homework kept an early finish of this chapter at bay. Believe me, I would have much rather been writing this than reading about ancient pollen samples and what that meant for archaic societies in Ohio. Nevertheless, it's here now, so I hope you enjoy! Things should start becoming more interesting now that Kurt is at school. Things will be happening. Yes. *shifty eyes*  
**

**As always, thanks for the alerts and reviews! You people are so awesome, I love you all. I get all warm and fuzzy inside whenever I get such lovely reviews. 3  
**

**Oh, and I know I promised a Warbler's meeting but this chapter wouldn't quite let me get that far yet. Next time, for sure! ;)**

**On with the show!  
**

* * *

The first day of class was… interesting, to say the least. Kurt knew the day was going to be a disaster when he got to his first class and couldn't even remember the teacher. Thankfully he was understanding (Kurt had no doubt that every single one of his teachers had been briefed on his 'issues').

He discovered a new problem when the class began and he tried to start taking notes. Being right-handed and having his right arm in a sling made writing anything quite the challenge. He awkwardly held his pencil in his left hand and tried to write down the chemical formulas that were on the board but it was slow going and moderately illegible. The boy sitting next to him noticed his dilemma and offered to scan his notes every day and give Kurt copies. Kurt thanked the boy, whose name turned out to be Andy (was he supposed to know who he was?) profusely.

But the day didn't seem to improve much after that. He took a wrong turn on the way to his next class and was fifteen minutes late to trigonometry. The fact that he had to hobble down the hallways in the first place was bad enough, but getting lost along the way just made everything worse.

The next two classes (World History and French) were relatively uneventful, although Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that _every _student was staring at him. It made him _really _uncomfortable. He wanted to yell at every single one of them. He didn't exactly enjoy feeling like he was some sort of interesting specimen under a microscope.

He also found it odd that, after his first class, someone in each of his following classes offered to send him copies of their notes before class even started. It was helpful, of course, but he hated the fact that he needed their help in the first place. Not only that, but after his incident of getting lost on the way to his second class, someone always offered to walk with him to his next class. By the time his fourth class was over and he was shuffling to the cafeteria with classmates Ronald and Keith, he had the sneaking suspicion that there was someone in each of his class was passing along updates on him to everyone else. Not exactly a comforting thought.

"Hey, Kurt!" greeted David enthusiastically as he sat down heavily with a tray of food. "How's your day been so far?"

"Miserable," muttered Kurt, moving his food around with his fork unenthusiastically. "I completely forgot who Mr. Cobbs was, can barely even take notes, got lost on the way to history class and my leg is absolutely _killing _me."

"We can leave lunch early and get some of your pain meds from my room if you want," offered Blaine, munching thoughtfully on an apple.

"Why are Kurt's meds in your room?" questioned Keith curiously, shoving some potatoes into his mouth.

"My dad is worried I'll swallow the whole bottle when no one's watching," answered Kurt bluntly, noticing the looks that Blaine, Wes and David gave Keith upon the other boy's question.

Keith suddenly looked extremely embarrassed and ashamed for even bringing up the question and just let out a meek 'oh' in response.

There was an awkward silence for a moment before Wes cleared his throat and looked over at Kurt. "So the first Warblers rehearsal of the semester is on Wednesday," he reminded.

Kurt looked down at his tray in thought. "Warblers… that's the singing thing, right?"

Blaine gave a patient nod. "Yup. We're all pretty much amazing," he said oh-so-modestly. Wes chuckled.

"And you've got the best range out of the whole group," added Wes, pointing his fork at Kurt. "You're pretty valuable. We're gonna start working on our setlist for Regionals. We're probably gonna be going up against Vocal Adrenaline so we've really gotta step up our game," he said, looking at all of the members present.

"It'll take a miracle for us to beat Vocal Adrenaline; they're legendary," commented David.

The talk at the table turned to strategies and song suggestions. Kurt tuned out and continued to stare at his untouched food. He knew he was supposed to be excited about rehearsal, but he just didn't feel it. Hell, he was unsure of how well he could even sing to start with.

He felt someone nudge him and looked up to see Blaine staring at him. "You need to eat something, Kurt," he said, gesturing toward his tray. "Then we head back to the dorms real quick before the next bell rings and grab your meds."

Kurt sighed and stabbed at his vegetables. "I'm not really hungry," he muttered.

"Kurt, you should really eat at least something," pressed Blaine.

"I'm not sure I asked you to be my _mother_, Blaine," snapped Kurt, glaring at the older boy. Blaine had a look of shameful surprise on his face and Kurt found himself not caring in the least if he had hurt his feelings. "I don't need you to be my caretaker."

"I'm not trying to be," replied Blaine, trying to keep a calm composure but rapidly losing it as he quickly tried to fix his mistake. All other conversation at the table had stopped as everyone became aware of the impending argument. "I just—"

"_No_. I _don't_ need you trying to take care of me," he said angrily, gathering his things and starting to get up from the table. "I may be a little broken but I am _not _helpless and I wish everyone would stop treating me like I am!" Kurt swung his backpack over his good shoulder and grabbed his lunch tray in his left hand, turning away from the table and walking away. He heard Blaine call out to him as he dumped his tray, heard someone else at the table hiss _What did you do?_, but he ignored it all and walked out of the cafeteria, intent to head toward his next class. At least he would get there early this time.

As he walked down the hall, he slowly began to regret his little spat. He should have at least gotten his meds from Blaine. Walking around on his leg all morning was making it hurt to the point where he thought about just skipping the remainder of his classes and spending the rest of the day in bed. He briefly considered turning back but knew that he couldn't do that, not after his little episode just now.

He was just so sick and tired of putting up with everyone! They all treated him like he was a three-year-old who was completely incapable of being self-sufficient. He was aware that he had a gimp leg and an arm that didn't work and knew that his head trauma apparently confused the hell out of everyone else, but that was no reason to treat him like this.

He took a left turn down a hallway, heading toward his physics class, and let out a grunt of surprise when he walked straight into someone else. Kurt stumbled a bit and took a step backwards to regain his balance.

"Woah, sorry man, are you okay?" asked the other boy, reaching out to touch Kurt on the shoulder.

Wrong move.

At the contact, Kurt felt a sudden and alarming rush of… something. "_Don't touch me_," he said sharply, slapping away the other boy's hand. The boy (who he didn't recognize) raised his hands in front of his chest in surrender, his eyes wide.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he replied, taking a step backwards. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt."

"I'm _fine,_" Kurt retorted. "Just don't… don't _touch_ me." He kept his eyes on the ground and gave the other student a wide berth as he continued down the hall, leaving a very confused boy standing behind him.

Kurt could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing came rapidly as he opened the door to his physics classroom. It was empty; everyone was still at lunch. He hastily sat down in a seat, dropping his backpack on the ground and staring down at the desk. He put his head in his hand and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself down.

He had no idea why he was suddenly so freaked out. This exact same thing had happened when Finn grabbed him at home one time. It had been an instant reaction; Kurt had no idea where it stemmed from. He didn't have a clue as to why being touched or grabbed unexpectedly apparently terrified him.

Kurt practically jumped out of his seat when the door opened. He looked up to see Mr. Hume standing in the doorway, obviously surprised to see him sitting in the room by himself.

"Kurt! Good to see you back, son. You're a bit early, though," he commented, checking his watch. Classes didn't resume for another fifteen minutes. "Are you alright?" he asked after a pause. "You look kind of shaken."

Deciding to go ahead and take advantage of the opportunity, Kurt shook his head. "I'm… I'm not feeling well."

"Well," replied Mr. Hume, "you should probably head back to your room then. You won't be penalized, I can assure you. You just go take care of yourself, alright?"

Kurt gave a numb nod, retrieved his backpack from the floor and muttered a thanks before hobbling out the door. He managed to make his way back to the dormitory before the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period. He heard the muffled sounds of students moving about in the halls as he trudged up the single flight of stairs to his room. He tried to ignore the mounting pain in his leg as he dropped his backpack to the floor and sat down on his bed. Kurt allowed himself to fall backward onto the mattress, wincing slightly as his right arm protested the sudden shift in orientation. He closed his eyes and just lay there, trying not to think about anything. He didn't want to think about yelling at Blaine or freaking out in the hallway or how _excruciating _his leg felt. Kurt just focused on his breathing, trying to steady it.

Inhale. Pause. Exhale.

Inhale. Pause. Exhale.

He wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep until his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, Kurt?"

When did his room get so dark? Kurt moaned and rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. He looked over at his door where he saw Blaine's figure silhouetted against the light in the hallway.

"It okay if I turn the light on?" he heard him ask. Kurt mumbled something in the affirmative and shut his eyes as bright light suddenly filled the room.

"What time is it?" asked Kurt groggily, opening his eyes and looking over at Blaine. The other boy remained by the door, hands clasped behind his back, as if he didn't want to get too close. _Great, now I've scared him off_, he thought with a mental roll of his eyes.

"About quarter after six," he replied. "I came and checked on you earlier but figured you could use some extra sleep."

"Oh." Had he really been asleep for almost six hours?

There was an awkward pause before Blaine spoke up again. "I want to apologize for earlier," he said. Kurt met his gaze and tried to recall what had happened. There were classes and then he went to lunch and… _oh._ "I was insensitive and rude and shouldn't have been trying to mother you."

Kurt let a small sigh escape from between his lips. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have snapped." He scooted to the edge of the bed and made to stand up. His leg protested painfully and Kurt had to grab the bedpost to keep from falling over. "_Goddamnit_," he hissed through his teeth, letting himself sink back onto the mattress.

Blaine crossed the room in a couple of strides. "Here," he said, holding out his hands. In the palm of one hand was a beautiful little white pill and the other hand held a water bottle. "Figured you might want this," he said, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a concerned smile.

"Very much so," replied Kurt, grabbing the pill and popping it in his mouth, quickly following it with a long drink of water. "Thanks," he said after a moment, exhaling heavily.

"Of course." Blaine sat down next to him on the bed. Kurt noticed the foot of space he was careful to leave between them. There was an awkward silence where neither of them knew what to say next. Kurt was at a loss for words. In all honesty, he had a _lot _on his mind, but nothing he felt that should be brought up at this particular moment.

Suddenly, Blaine spoke up. "So do you have a lot of homework?" A typical fall-back question for students when there was a lull in conversation. Kurt didn't know if he should feel glad for the neutral topic or disappointed that nothing else came up.

In response, Kurt shook his head. "No, not really. Only made it to a handful of classes, anyway," he said with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

Blaine gave him a comforting smile, fingers twitching as he started to move his hand but then thought better of it. _He's afraid to touch me_, realized Kurt. _Probably heard about what happened in the hallway with that other kid._ "No one is going to think any less of you if you need to take a day or two off from classes," he heard Blaine say.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. "No, I need something to do. I'm tired of just sitting around and taking up space."

Blaine gave an understanding nod. "Just try not to push yourself and do more than you can handle," he advised. Kurt gave a half-hearted nod. "Are you going to be coming to Warblers rehearsal on Wednesday?" he asked, raising a brow at him.

He hadn't really given much thought to that just yet, so Kurt gave a shrug in response. "I don't know. I'm not sure how I feel about the whole singing thing," he replied. Everyone had told him that he sang, but he honestly couldn't remember it. Was he any good? Did he enjoy it? He let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his forehead. Why couldn't anything be simple? Why couldn't he just _remember _anything? He couldn't stand having to question himself all the time.

"Y'know," he said, not raising his gaze. "I think I may get started on some of my reading for class." Kurt really just wanted Blaine to leave (did that boy _always _have to be around?). He was tired of feeling his pitying and concerned gaze all the time.

Blaine got to his feet. Kurt could feel his eyes on him but refused to look up. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, then," the other boy replied. "Text me if you need anything." Kurt nodded in acknowledgement and heard Blaine slowly exit the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Kurt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He could feel his medicine kicking in (oh the wonders of Vicodin) and knew that he wouldn't be getting any real work done. The meds worked amazingly for his pain but also made him fairly drowsy. He felt no guilt in the fact that he left his schoolwork abandoned in his backpack as he curled up on his bed and rested his head on the pillow. His teachers couldn't possibly be angry with him.

In fact, the only thing that went through Kurt's mind as he slipped into a drug-induced slumber was the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and was starting to feel hungry. But that problem would have to wait until morning.

* * *

**Next time: While doing 'research', Kurt finds some old performances from WMHS on YouTube. Will that sway his decision to re-join the Warblers?**


	9. Chapter 9

**I am VERY sorry for the very late update. My classes have been torture. But midterms are finally over! Phew!**

**This chapter was actually really hard to write and I don't think it's my best but... I just need to be done with this section. It's difficult for me to get the idea from my head into coherent words. I hope this chapter starts to clear up some concerns that I know people have been having; I promise things will start making more sense soon.  
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* * *

"I can't believe you told her."

"Dude, what was I supposed to do? She asked about you and I just told her what you told me. It's not my fault that she went all crazy and put all those videos online. I didn't even know she recorded that stuff."

Kurt heaved a sigh as he sat at the desk in his room Tuesday night, staring at the front page of YouTube while he spoke with Finn on the phone. Apparently upon hearing about his conflicting feelings on re-joining the Warblers, Rachel had uploaded every single video from Glee that she owned and demanded that Kurt watch them. Something about witnessing for himself how remarkable his voice was.

He wasn't sure he wanted to do this. It was weird enough not being able to remember being in Glee in the first place; it would only be weirder to see recordings of himself that he had absolutely no recollection of. How could he be sure it was really him? What if they had just edited him in there to try and make him think he had talent? What if he had some sort of evil twin or something like that?

"Did she say which ones I am supposed to watch?" he asked tiredly into the phone, holding it between his ear and his shoulder so he could use his free hand to type (or as well as he could type with only one hand).

"Uhm…" He could practically hear Finn rubbing the back of his head. "All of them? But that's just what she said and you know how Rachel gets_," _he amended quickly.

Kurt snorted and rolled his eyes. "Actually, Finn, I don't know how Rachel gets. She's one of the people my brain apparently blocked out, remember?"

"Oh, right. Sorry," mumbled Finn in an awkward apology. "Well, she gets all huffy and in-your-face about stuff all the time. Thinks she's always right about everything_," _he said. Kurt noted a hint of bitterness in his voice and figured it had something to do with his and Rachel's breakup around Christmas.

"Well, which ones do you think I should watch then?" asked Kurt, wanting to get off the topic of Finn's ex-girlfriend.

"Well, hold on…" Kurt waited while Finn looked through the videos to try and find a decent one for him to watch. "Okay. You've got some nice spots in The Time Warp. You were Riff-Raff. Wore a really creepy wig, too,"he commented with a chuckle.

Kurt nodded and typed in 'Time Warp McKinley Glee' into the YouTube search bar. The first video looked right so he clicked it and waited for the video to load, unsure of what to expect. "Alright, here it goes," he breathed into the phone as he pressed the play button.

The first thing that popped into his head as the video started was that the wig was indeed very creepy. But he was happy to see that everyone else's costumes were just as strange. He watched a few moments of it in thoughtful silence, not sure what to think about watching himself on his computer like this.

"Do I always sound like a murderous psychopath?" he asked into the phone as Finn took the lead on stage.

His step-brother chuckled. "Nah, that was mostly just for the part,"he assured him. Kurt was able to hear him clicking around on his own computer while he continued to watch the video. He would admit that he seemed to have a decent enough voice. Perhaps he would go ahead and re-join the Warblers tomorrow. It would at least give him something to do.

"Oh, dude, there's another one where you've got some good parts," came Finn's voice. "It's hard to find any good ones cuz usually you're just singing in the background. None of these really show off your range. But here, watch the Bad Romance video," he instructed.

"Bad Romance? Okay…" Kurt stopped playing the Time Warp and searched in the sidebar for the prescribed video. It was easy to find since it was uploaded by the same user. He clicked it and waited for the video to buffer. When he deemed it loaded enough he hit the play button.

His eyes went wide as he heard himself belt the opening notes. Sure, vocally, he sounded good, but the vocals were not what were holding his attention. He was more concerned with what he was _wearing_. The wig was just… and those _shoes _and… was that a shiny, silver _dress_?

_Oh my god…_

"Finn?" he started, hearing his breath catch in his throat as he spoke. "Why am I the only guy up there?"

"Oh, well, you were the only one who wanted to do GaGa with the girls," he explained, starting to sound nervous. "The rest of the dudes did a Kiss song."

Kurt kept his eyes on the video, stunned. Then, suddenly, he felt as if a light bulb flashed in his mind. It all made sense, everything.

He paused the video and grabbed the phone with his hand so he didn't have to keep his neck tilted anymore. "I know you guys told me I was gay, but no one mentioned that I was _flaming_," he said, a mild accusatory tone slipping into his voice that he couldn't help.

"What? Kurt, I-"

"Is that why those jocks tried to kill me? Because I'm a flamboyant _queer_?"

"Kurt, man, just listen to me-"

Kurt pressed the end call button and set the phone next to his computer. He pushed away from his desk and paced around his room, trying to sort out his thoughts. So some guys beat him to hell because he was gay. Not just gay, but absolutely _flaming. _That had to be why everyone was behaving so strangely toward him. He knew he had been acting differently since the attack, but now he understood just _how _differently.

It had all been because of him. How he acted. The way he moved. The way he dressed. Everything about him. He had almost been killed for being himself.

Kurt heaved a sigh and sat down heavily on his bed. No matter how differently he felt now he was not going to allow himself to slip back into his old habits. Not if it put his life on the line. And judging from everyone's reactions, he had already been doing a good job at being the complete opposite of who he was. Kurt would just have to make sure he kept it up. He wasn't going to let this happen again. No matter how gay he used to be, he couldn't risk it anymore.

* * *

"You mixed up the radius and the ulna."

Blaine looked down at his worksheet where he was labeling the bones of the human body. He examined the mistake that Wes had pointed out to him. "Are you sure? I thought I had it right."

Wes shook his head. "Positive. The ulna goes next to the pinky. Pinky, ulna. P-U," he explained, pointing out the respective body parts on his own arm.

Blaine gave an impressed snort. "Hm. Thanks," he said, erasing what he had written and re-writing the labels.

The three of them (David was there as well) were studying for a quiz they had in anatomy the next day. David had grumbled about how it was unfair to have a quiz when they had only been back in school for two days but their teacher had claimed that it kept their minds sharp and focused.

"He didn't even say what exactly was going to be on the quiz," complained David, flipping through his textbook. "I don't know if I should study the circulatory system more or focus on muscle groups."

"I'd just skim over everything," suggested Blaine from his spot on the floor. His back leaned up against the side of his bed where Wes and David were both perched. "I don't think he's going to be too-"

He was interrupted as his phone started chirping happily in his pocket. Blaine dug the device out, wondering who would be calling him at ten o'clock at night. His heart stopped briefly when the caller ID read _Finn Hudson_. Something had to be wrong if Finn was calling him. He quickly pressed the 'answer call' button and put the phone to his ear, trying to quell the panic that was starting to rise in his chest.

"Finn? What's wrong?" He heard Wes and David scoot forward on the bed, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation (out of concern, of course).

"Hey, I, uh- I think you might need to talk to Kurt," he replied, fumbling over his words slightly. Blaine could hear the strain in Finn's voice. Something was definitely wrong.

"Why? What happened?" he asked, desperately trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well, Kurt told me that he wasn't sure if he wanted to do the Warbler thing. I let it slip to Rachel so she posted some old videos from glee," he explained. "He was good until he watched the one of him and the girls doing Gaga. I think it kind of… I dunno. Kind of shocked him to see himself in that outfit and singing a girl's song. He got kind of heated and asked why no one ever told him he was so… flaming. His words, not mine," he added hastily. "Then he hung up on me. I tried calling him back a couple of times but he keeps ignoring me." Blaine heard the other boy sigh on the other line, obviously worked up over the incident.

Blaine gave a small nod of understanding even though Finn couldn't see it. "I see."

"I was wondering if, if maybe you could, like, talk to him or something?" asked Finn cautiously. "I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this, man. I don't know how to explain the whole gay thing to him."

"And, seeing as how I'm gay you think I'll be able to?" asked Blaine with a hint of amusement in his voice. He heard David snort behind him.

"No no!" exclaimed Finn. Blaine thought it was entertaining how easily Finn seemed to get uncomfortable and nervous whenever these sorts of topics came up. "Well, maybe yes, kind of. But not in that way!"

"Calm down, I understand what you mean," reassured Blaine, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Oh, oh good." Finn was obviously relieved that he hadn't offended him in any way. "I just… I dunno, man. The memory loss thing wasn't supposed to last this long, y'know? It's starting to worry me," he admitted softly.

Blaine repressed a sigh. "Yeah, me too," he replied. "But it may not be permanent, so we shouldn't get so discouraged," he added, trying to be optimistic. Finn sounded like he needed it (and Blaine may have been trying to reassure himself as well). "I read something online about music therapy for things like this –" he ignored the groan and mutter of _not again _from behind him – "so maybe if he listened so some music that was meaningful to him it might do something," he suggested to Finn.

"Yeah… yeah, that sounds good," the other boy said, no longer sounding so depressed. "Oh, I can talk to the others and put together a CD or something with a bunch of his favorite songs on it!" he announced enthusiastically.

Blaine couldn't help but grin. "That's a great idea, Finn. I can't wait to see it." _And see if it works_, he mentally added.

"We'll get started on it tomorrow, definitely." There was a pause. "Oh, and Blaine?" he asked, his voice a bit quieter.

"Yes?"

"How… how's he doing? I mean, is Kurt doing okay over there?"

Blaine took a moment before replying. He didn't think Finn needed to know about Kurt's mini blow-up at lunch yesterday. The boy had been much better today and had even attended all of his classes. "He's holding up," he settled with. "His leg bothers him at the end of the day, but that's to be expected."

Finn seemed satisfied enough with that answer. "Good. I'm glad everything's okay. You'd let me know if something was up, right?"

"Of course," replied Blaine, feeling a slight twinge of guilt knowing that he had already omitted information from Finn. "And I'll keep an eye out for a good time to talk to him," he added.

"Okay. Thanks a lot, man."

"It's not a problem, Finn."

They said their goodbyes before hanging up. Blaine put the phone on the ground next to him and heaved a sigh. He could feel Wes and David staring at him, waiting for him to break the silence.

"This is definitely going to be a long semester."

* * *

"Are you sure?" Wes eyed Kurt from across the lunch table, trying to persuade him to attend the Warbler's meeting that evening.

Kurt gave a nod as he swallowed some soup. "Yeah. I think I need to focus more on my academics rather than the extracurriculars at the moment," he replied, having already worked out his reasons for not wanting to re-join the glee club. If being in glee was one of the things that made him a target for bullies in the past by loudly announcing how gay he was, then he was going to stay as far away from it as possible.

Wes looked like he was about to argue but was cut off by a sharp look from Blaine. Instead, he gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, I understand. But remember, if you decide to re-join, there's no need for you to re-audition. You're back in the moment you want to be," he explained.

"I'll keep that in mind," answered Kurt politely as he spooned some more soup into his mouth.

Seeing that he had lost, Wes turned his attention to his tray of food. Blaine rolled his eyes at his friend's pouting and looked at Kurt. "So how are you classes going so far?"

"Not horribly, actually," replied Kurt. "I'm amazed that I remember as much subject material as I do. Especially French." In all honesty, Kurt wasn't pleased with his innate sense of French. It seemed like another one of those blazing rainbow flags that just screamed _I'm gay!_ He'd tried to give some wrong answers but that hadn't turned out so well. Kurt would just have to find some other way around the language.

"That's all in a different part of the brain," commented David, shredding a roll of bread. "Factual things, language, things like that. It was in the anatomy textbook," he explained with a shrug.

Kurt gave a small nod. "I'll take your word for it, then." Go figure. He couldn't forget anything worth forgetting because it was in the wrong part of the brain.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. He froze suddenly and took a sharp breath, irrationally expecting something to hit him. "Oh, sorry man, didn't mean to scare you," came a voice behind him. Realizing he was in no danger, Kurt turned his head and saw Andy, the boy from his chemistry class who was copying notes for him since Kurt couldn't take his own notes left-handed.

Kurt shook his head and smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'm just jumpy, I guess. What'd you need?" _Jumpy _was a bit of an understatement, but he didn't need to let the others know that his heart had practically stopped when he had felt someone touch him unexpectedly.

"Just wanted to give you the chem notes from this morning," he said, holding out a couple sheets of paper. "And I put my phone number on the top there in case you can't read anything or have questions about what I wrote," he added as Kurt took the papers.

"I'm sure they're quite legible," commented Kurt. "And thanks again so much for doing this. I'm working on being a lefty but it isn't going very quickly." If what the doctors believed was true, then he may not even be able to use his right hand anyway so he figured he should start training his left one. It was a lot easier said than done, however.

Andy waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. It's no problem at all." He politely excused himself and returned to wherever he had come from. Kurt set the papers on the table next to his tray and started fumbling with his backpack. He was getting quite skilled at maneuvering the zipper single-handedly and was kind of proud of himself for his small accomplishment. He shoved the papers inside and closed the bag.

Turning back toward everyone else, he noticed that conversation had turned from anatomy to set-list options for Regionals. Kurt tuned out as he picked at the food still left on his tray, his mind bothered by something that should have been insignificant.

_He gave me his phone number. _Was Andy honestly just trying to be helpful? Or were there secret intentions behind it? Kurt suddenly felt uneasy about the situation. He knew that everyone else was aware of his apparent sexuality and he realized with a start that here, at an _all-boys school_, there would likely be others who were the same. And if there were other gay students, then there _must _be other students who wanted to smash the living daylights out of them. It was inevitable. He was living proof that homosexuality was not approved of by everyone.

_Oh god, what if someone thinks that Andy was flirting and then comes after me? _He didn't want to be gay, not if it meant he was going to spend the rest of his life in a cast!

Kurt jumped slightly as the bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period. He heard Blaine chuckle next to him. "Don't space out so much," he advised, standing up and grabbing his tray of food as well as Kurt's. "I got it," he announced with a smile as he took the trays away. Kurt slowly got to his feet and slung his backpack over his good shoulder. He found himself looking after Blaine, watching the confident way he moved through the throng of students in a rush to deposit their lunch trays. He felt his face flush with… with what, exactly? Shame? Embarrassment? …desire?

_Am I… am I checking him out?'! _

Kurt's eyes widened at the thought and he turned away without waiting for Blaine to return, intent on getting to his next class. Luckily it wouldn't require much thinking on his part because Kurt knew that he was going to be spending the next few class periods trying to figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

* * *

**Poor Kurt! He's so confused. I just want to hug him.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Oh my goodness, an update! *shock***

**I'm terribly sorry this has taken so long. My classes were horrid this quarter and I barely had any time to breathe, let alone work on this fic. But the quarter is over (and I passed all of my classes, huzzah!) so hopefully I'll be able to hash out a few more chapters before my next set of classes tries to kill me. **

**Still trying to mull through this slow transition section to where things will be getting more interesting, so that's what's causing some of the delays as well. I have so many fun things planned for later on, but we have to actually get there first!**

**I want to say a huge thanks to everyone who is keeping up with this story. You all are fantastic and really keep me going. Hugs and loves to you all! xoxo  
**

* * *

When Friday finally arrived, Kurt was more than ready to leave Dalton when his father came to pick him and take him home for the weekend. After his undesirable epiphany on Tuesday he had spent a good amount of effort trying to avoid Blaine at all costs. This was more difficult than it should have been because Blaine, for his part, seemed to be attempting the complete opposite had seemed to be trying to spend every spare moment with him. It led to a couple of arguments (well, Kurt had been the one doing all of the arguing), including one memorable moment on Thursday evening when Kurt had been practicing his left-handed penmanship and ended up throwing his pencil at the other boy. Despite the fact that Kurt wasn't left-handed, the pencil still ended up in Blaine's face, leaving a deep, graphite-colored scratch on his forehead. Kurt had immediately apologized; he'd never meant to draw blood and was genuinely sorry that he'd actually hit Blaine. But the older boy had brushed the incident off and, by Friday morning, had seemed mildly amused about the whole thing.

Kurt just didn't know what he was supposed to do. He spent the hours at night before falling asleep trying to figure out what was going on with his messed-up head. Why did it seem like he was suddenly so interested in Blaine? The obvious answer was because Kurt was gay, but if that was the case then why had this attraction decided to show itself now? After Puck had so graciously reminded him of his sexual preferences, he hadn't been remotely interested in any of the boys, let alone Blaine. In fact, he distinctly remembered thinking that some of the girls were hot. Why did that even happen if he was supposed to be gay? And was there a way for him to please go back to those few moments when he seemed interested in girls? Because then life would be so much easier. He would never have to worry about being attacked again, that was for sure. And he wouldn't be so _confused _all the time! That was the most annoying feeling ever. Kurt felt like he was on an emotional roller coaster. One minute he would be content and sociable, the next he would be freaking out about something and worrying about people staring at him or touching him. He didn't understand his rapid swings in temperament and it just confused the hell out of him. Add that to his apparent swinging of sexuality and he was just a bundle of nervous, anxious energy that was ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

"So you have your check-up appointment with the docs tomorrow at noon," reminded Burt, bringing Kurt back to the present car ride with his father. They were almost back home in Lima, away from the confusing all-boys-ness of Dalton and back with his family.

Kurt nodded in reply. "Are they going to run a bunch of experiments to see if I've mutated into some sort of sea slug?" he asked dryly.

"While I don't know about the sea slug business, I expect they're just gonna see how you've been holding up since you came home for Christmas," answered his father, glancing toward his son before turning his gaze back to the road. "Check to see how you're improving and all that." He paused for a moment and cleared his throat. "You uh… you been able to… to remember anything yet?" he asked, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

But Kurt heard anyway it and regretfully shook his head. "No. Still can't remember some people and events. But my class work doesn't seem to be suffering, so no worries there," he added with false cheer.

Burt snorted and shook his head. "I could care less about your classes right now, kiddo. I want nothing more than for you to get better."

Silence fell over the truck after that statement. Kurt pondered on all the possible interpretations of 'get better'. Did it just mean his physical injuries (namely his brain, leg and busted arm)? That must have been what his father meant because there was no way that he knew about all of the emotional turmoil he was going through. But hopefully, if things were eventually going to 'get better', all of his problems would be fixed in one way or another.

…

The check-up went a better than expected. The doctors told Kurt that he didn't have to wear his arm in a sling all the time anymore, though it would still have to remain in a cast for another month or so. His leg was healing well enough and would be out of the cast in a couple of months. Burt was relieved when the doctors announced that there would be minimal scarring; he had been worried that, once Kurt got back to normal, his son would be very unhappy if he ended up with scars on his face or arms from this whole mess.

Despite all of the good news, there was one bit of information that Kurt was not happy with.

"I'm _not _seeing a _therapist_!" Kurt stalked around the kitchen once they had arrived home, his casted leg thumping on the ground with every other step. Finn, who had been sitting at the kitchen table doing homework, looked suddenly very awkward at being caught in middle of what was sure to be a heated argument.

"Kurt, I don't think you're being rational about this," reasoned Burt, standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. "I think this would be good for you. You need to talk to someone about this."

"About _what_?" demanded Kurt, turning towards his father with a defiant look in his eyes. "I don't have anything that I need to discuss with a shrink!"

"Well, obviously you do or you wouldn't be so irritable all the time," countered Burt.

"I'm _sorry_ if my temper makes you upset," said Kurt, not even trying to hide his dripping sarcasm. "I'm only dealing with brain damage, two broken limbs, and recovering from other assorted small injuries. Forgive me if I'm not all sunshine and rainbows all the time!"

Finn's eyes were wide as the argument went back and forth. He was scared to move, worried that if he made his presence known that he would somehow be dragged into this mess. It was like dealing with a T-rex; if you don't move, it can't see you.

"That's what I'm talking about, Kurt." Burt was trying hard to be patient and to not raise his voice. "I don't know how I'm supposed to handle all of…" He gestured with his hands as he struggled to find the proper word. "…_this._"

If looks could kill, Burt would have be a puddle of ooze at that moment. The glare that Kurt was giving his father even made Finn uncomfortable.

"So what, I'm just a condition to you?" asked Kurt in a dangerously calm voice. "Just a thing that needs to be fixed? Just this waste of space with no feelings or emotions?"

"I never said or suggested that, Kurt," said Burt sharply, pointing his finger at his son. "Don't you _dare _put words in my mouth like that."

At this, Kurt rolled his eyes and moved to leave the kitchen. At a shout from Burt, Finn quickly got up from his seat and grabbed his step-brother by the shoulders, preventing him from storming out of the room. In the blink of an eye, Kurt swung his right arm, the one encased in a plaster cast, into Finn's side. Finn let out a cry of pain and surprise while Kurt struggled to get out of his grip. "Let go of me!" he yelled as Burt crossed the room in four quick strides. He separated the boys, keeping a hand on each of their shoulders to keep them apart.

"What was that about? Kurt?" But Kurt didn't seem to be listening. His eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. His breathing sounded quick and shallow. Burt's brows furrowed in concern and confusion, but before he could ask his son what was wrong the boy shrugged out of his grip and walked out of the room. This time neither Burt nor Finn made an attempt to stop him.

Once they heard Kurt's door upstairs slam shut, they both let out breaths they'd been unaware they had been holding.

"You okay?" asked Burt, turning weary eyes to Finn.

The boy rubbed his side gingerly where Kurt had slammed his arm into it. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Pretty sure that's gonna bruise, though."

Burt nodded and slumped into a chair at the table, slowly followed by Finn as he did the same thing. Burt put his face in his hands and just sat there for a couple of minutes. He didn't know how much longer he was going to handle all of this. Kurt had always been so well-behaved and generally easy to deal with. He had never had to learn how to deal with a perpetually moody teenager (though Kurt did have his infamous moments where he had quite the attitude). This was all straining him so much. He just wanted his son to get better. He just wanted his Kurt back. This boy who was locked in his room right now wasn't his son.

Finn cleared his throat nervously, unsure if he should bother Burt or not. The man gave a small grunt to let him know that he was listening. Finn took that as signal to go ahead and speak.

"I was uh… I talked to Blaine a couple of times this week," he started. "He mentioned that Kurt kinda freaks out when people touch him. He thinks it's a side-effect of the attack. From being grabbed and hit and… yeah," he finished lamely, looking down at his history textbook that laid completely forgotten on the table.

Burt sat quietly for a few moments before heaving a heavy sigh. "Makes sense, I suppose," he replied gruffly.

"And he, he also thought of a way to trigger Kurt's memories," he added, noticing Burt's attention perk up.

"How?" he asked, raising his head and looking at the boy questioningly.

"Music. He said music therapy is used sometimes in cases like this," he explained excitedly. "He said that maybe if we get Kurt to listen to a bunch of music he really likes that it might help him remember things. I talked to the glee kids this week and they all agreed to get some music together to help."

Burt listened intently and nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds like a good idea. Won't hurt to try, at least," he added with shake of his head.

Finn gave a small grin. He couldn't wait to get back to school on Monday (a phrase he never really expected himself to say) so that everyone could compile their music for Kurt. Finn was confident that this was going to work.

It had to.

…

To continue with the confusion, Burt was surprised when Kurt came down shortly before dinner and apologized to him and Finn both for his behavior that afternoon.

"I shouldn't have yelled like that," he said softly, looking down at the ground. "And I'm sorry I hit you," he added to Finn. Kurt raised his gaze, meeting his father's eyes. "I really am sorry. I just… I'm having a hard time with… with everything. I shouldn't take it out on you." _Or any other innocent bystanders_, he added mentally.

Burt gave a nod. "It's okay, kiddo. I know this is real rough on you. And I want you to know that I'm not mad at you or anything, okay?"

"I know, thanks," replied Kurt, smiling slightly. He took a deep breath before continuing. "I thought about it, and I think you're right. About the therapist," he added, saying the last word a bit quieter as if he was ashamed or embarrassed to say it. "I need to go. To talk to someone who's trained with this sort of stuff. Maybe then I can stop blowing up all everyone else," he muttered half-heartedly.

"But if they really deserve it, you can just whack 'em with your arm!" commented Finn with a grin. "That hurt like hell."

"Finn, language," chided Carole from the kitchen, to which Finn promptly apologized.

Burt smiled proudly at his son. While many things about Kurt had changed throughout the last month, the boy still had his pride and dignity it seemed. Burt knew it took a lot for him to admit that he needed help. Perhaps this was the first step on the long road to recovery.

He got up from his seat and walked to where Kurt was standing in the doorway. "I'll call tomorrow about getting you set up with someone. Maybe there's a place near Westerville you can go to so it'll be closer to school."

Kurt just gave a small nod in acknowledgment, still looking as if this whole exchange was emotionally painful. Which, for him, it probably was.

"I love you, kid. Always have and always will. No matter what," he said, staring Kurt in the eye as he spoke.

His son bit his lip and nodded again. "I know," he said quietly. "I love you, too."

With that, Burt carefully wrapped his arms around his son, hugging him for the first time in what seemed like years. He was grateful that Kurt didn't shake off the show of affection. In fact, he leaned into his father, not really hugging him back but not fending off the gesture either. The two of them stood like that for a few moments, just supporting each other. Burt then realized that, through all of Kurt's mood swings and personality changes, he was still just this kid that needed his love and support.

And he was determined to give him exactly that.

* * *

**Alrighty, I need some input here! What sort of songs do you think would be on this magic CD that Blaine and Finn are trying to put together? Any suggestions? We need songs that Kurt loves and/or songs that would be really meaningful to him. Suggestions need not have appeared on the actual show, just whatever you think would be appropriate! =)**

**Also, not that this really matters for anything, but this chapter marks the longest fanfic I have ever written! And we aren't even close to being done yet! Yay for milestones!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Don't hate me because this is really overdue. I'm trying to pass my classes so that I can become a college graduate in two months. That's a worthy cause to be late with fanfics, right? =)**

**Anyway, big thanks to everyone who is keeping up with this story! I know the updates are sporadic so those of you who continue to come back really mean a lot. Y'all are great! Hugs and loves to you all! xoxoxo**

**On with the show!  
**

* * *

"What about that Mellencamp song?"

"Oh, hell no. Not one of his best moments. If he could permanently forget something, it should be his whole Mellencamp identity crisis. It was embarrassing."

"Wait, what happened with Mellencamp?"

"Kurt tasted like strawberries when I made out with him in his basement. And he felt like a baby."

"… _what_?"

Blaine narrowed his eyes in confusion as he held his cell phone tighter to his ear. Instead of doing schoolwork on a Tuesday night like good students would, the New Directions kids were all having a meeting to discuss what songs should be included in Kurt's CD; Finn had put Blaine on speaker so that he could also be a part of it. He was learning quite a few things about Kurt's time at McKinley.

"Story for another time, Blaine," came Rachel's voice over the other few that had started launching into the apparently amusing anecdote. "Come on guys, we need to focus! We need songs that were important to him if they're going to trigger his memories."

"What if we just drop him on his head? Won't that do something?" Blaine rolled his eyes, glad that Puck was unable to see his reaction.

"Let's try to be serious here, Puck. For once?"

"Hey, I'm just throwin' the idea out there."

There was a general murmuring at Puck on the other end of the line. Blaine sighed inwardly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had been pacing the perimeter of his room at school as he spoke with the others on the phone, completely ignoring the stack of homework that was sitting on his desk. Tired of pacing, he sat down carefully on the edge of his bed (which he had neglected to make that morning).

"Do you have any ideas, Blaine?" asked Finn loudly, trying to get everyone back on topic once again. "Mercedes already put "Teenage Dream" on the list."

"Well…" Here Blaine had a dilemma. There had been a couple of times where he and Kurt had sang together and he wanted to include those in case Kurt happened to remember them. In all actuality, he wished that Kurt would remember _him_. But he felt awkward suggesting those things to his other friends. It seemed selfish, almost. "I don't know if anything that we've done here was particularly meaningful," he said slowly.

"He definitely told me about the two of you singing "Baby, It's Cold Outside" together," said Mercedes. "He was positively giddy."

Blaine felt himself blush at her comment, glad once again that the others couldn't see his reactions. Kurt had been giddy after their impromptu duet together before Christmas? Did that mean… but no. That Kurt was different from the one they were all dealing with now. Blaine tried to tell himself not to look to into it (thought he couldn't help but feel slightly optimistic at the idea that perhaps that song would hold a special place in Kurt's heart).

"Let's add it then!" announced Rachel.

"I thought we were talking about songs, not math," intoned Brittany quietly in the background.

Used to statements like this, the rest of the glee club more or less ignored the blonde. "Is there anything else you can think of, Blaine?" asked Rachel once again.

Blaine thought for a moment, but was unable to really come up with anything he thought would be significant. He was struck with a sudden feeling of guilt at the fact that he couldn't think of other songs that might work; how well did he really know Kurt? Not well enough, apparently. He felt like he should be able to contribute a bite more than what he had.

"I can't really think of anything else," he admitted somewhat shamefully.

"I think we have plenty," commented Quinn. She must have been further away from whoever was holding the phone because she was a little difficult to hear.

"What if this doesn't work?" came Artie's voice.

"It's _going _to work," insisted Finn. "This music is everything to Kurt. It's going to make him remember."

As Blaine listened to Finn, he wished he could share the other boy's optimism. Sure, he really _really _hoped that this would work (the internet said it had worked before, and you can always trust the internet), but there was a small, poisonous part of his brain that was trying to remain rooted in reality. What if this _didn't _work? What if they were going to have to learn to accept this new version of Kurt?

Suddenly, there was a timid knock on Blaine's door. He jumped at the unexpected noise and then shook his head at his own jumpiness. "Listen, guys, I've gotta go. Let me know how this turns out, okay?" Everyone on the other end said a round of goodbyes as he got to his feet. He shut his phone, slipped it into his trouser pocket and walked over to the door.

He was surprised, in a good way, when he opened the door to find Kurt standing on the other side.

"Kurt. What're you doing here?" he asked, at a loss for anything more eloquent to say.

Kurt stood awkwardly on the other side of the open door, looking mildly embarrassed and uncomfortable. Blaine randomly noticed that his hair had finally grown to a length to where the scars that crisscrossed across his scalp were no longer quite as noticeable. It still reminded him of an army buzzcut, but he was glad that the evidence of Kurt's attack were slowly fading away.

For his part, Kurt was not really concerned with his appearance. He had been shifting his weight from one foot to the other (seeing as how he could only place so much weight on his left leg this nervous tic seemed almost useless) while he went over his reason for coming over to Blaine's room again in his head. His dad had set him up to speak with a therapist (god, he hated how that word sounded!) once a week that was actually only a twenty-minute drive from school so that he wouldn't have to make the two-hour journey home so often. But, seeing as how he still had a leg and arm in casts, he couldn't drive himself (Kurt was sure he could drive just fine but he knew his dad wouldn't allow it). So he needed a chauffeur. And Blaine happened to have his own car. He just needed to ask him about it.

There was also another reason for coming over, but it wasn't one that Kurt was about to voice out loud.

"Well… I actually need to talk to you about something," he admitted, avoiding eye contact. Avoiding eye contact was critical for the second part of his plan (though, honestly, it wasn't so much of a 'plan' as it was an 'experiment').

Blaine nodded and opened the door wider, allowing the other boy to enter the room. He suddenly remembered the conversation he had had with Finn the previous week about Kurt's freak-out over his sexuality. Was that what Kurt wanted to talk with him about?

"So what's up?" asked Blaine, trying to remain casual and not jump to conclusions. He sat down at his desk as Kurt sat down carefully on the un-made bed.

Kurt remained silent for a few beats before speaking up. "I need to ask you for a favor," he said, chancing a glance at the shorter boy.

Confused, Blaine gave another nod. "Of course, anything." What could Kurt possibly need him to do?

Preparing himself for eternal shame and humiliation, Kurt lowered his gaze and spoke to the floor. "Would you be able to drive me to Columbus on Thursday evenings for some… appointments?"

"That's not a problem. It doesn't take too long to get to Columbus from here," replied Blaine, wondering what exactly was in Columbus that Kurt needed to attend to on Thursdays. Deciding to brave it, he went ahead and asked, "What kind of appointments?"

_Shit, this is it_, thought Kurt, still staring at the floor. _He already thinks I'm a nut-case and this is just going to prove it. _"Psychological therapy," he murmured. He could feel his face redden with shame as he uttered the words. Saying them out loud just seemed to hit the nail in the coffin; he was really screwed up. But, if he was honest with himself, he _was _pretty screwed up. His life had been flipped upside-down in ways that he couldn't even explain because there were parts of his own life that he couldn't remember. Kurt knew that he shouldn't be ashamed of going to talk with a counselor but there was such a stigma behind it that made it seem so drastic. Not to mention that, once people knew, they were going to continue looking at him with these sad pitiful eyes that he was just so sick and tired of seeing. That was one of the worst things about this whole mess; the way everyone else treated him. Maybe things would eventually go back to normal, but he doubted that was going to happen anytime soon.

While Blaine had never really been an expert on reading people, it was easy to see that this was a topic that made Kurt uncomfortable. Though he supposed he would also feel a bit awkward having to ask someone else for transportation to their therapist sessions. In response to Kurt's admission, he gave yet another nod. "Alright, just let me know what time we need to be there. It's no problem at all, Kurt," he said with a smile, trying to reassure his friend that it wasn't a big deal.

Kurt looked up and met Blaine's eyes. His eyes were warm and understanding, not judgmental in the least. And his small smile was friendly and comforting; Kurt found himself giving a slight smile in return. Simultaneously, he felt a warm sensation in his chest that quickly wiped any traces of a smile off of his face.

_Well, that answers _that_ question, _he thought bitterly as he stood up from his position on the bed, face reddening once again in embarrassment. Only this time it wasn't from asking a question; it was from the realization that yes, he was indeed attracted to Blaine. Ugh.

"Well, thanks," he said, wiping his trousers as he started to make his way to the door. "I'll let you know by tomorrow what time we have to be there."

His left hand was on the doorknob, he was almost free, when Blaine stopped him. "Wait," he called, standing from his own chair.

Kurt halted in his tracks, hand still frozen on the doorknob. _Don't look at him, don't look at him_, he kept telling himself. "Yes?"

Blaine took a deep breath. It was now or never. "Could I talk to you about something else?"

_Nonononono_, thought Kurt desperately. _No talking! I need to leave! I don't want to be around you. _"About what?" he asked, still facing the door. He wasn't going to turn around and face Blaine. Not if it meant he had to be reminded of exactly how messed up his brain was.

"Can't we just talk? I don't remember the last time we just had a conversation together," commented Blaine. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to mention the fact that Finn had asked him specifically to speak with Kurt about his sexuality. That conversation was going to be awkward enough without bringing family into it.

"I really need to get started on some homework," said Kurt evasively. There was a nagging part of his brain (the _bad _part) that wanted to stay and chat with Blaine, but he wasn't going to give in to that. He needed to try and keep as much distance between him and Blaine as possible. He didn't _want _to be attracted to him!

_Damn_, thought Blaine. Kurt was pulling the homework card. He knew that the other boy was trying to get out of conversing with him; his body language was obvious. There wasn't much he could say to make Kurt skive off of his homework. "Alright, well, we'll just catch up during the ride to Columbus on Thursday," he offered. It would take them anywhere from twenty to forty minutes to get to Kurt's appointment. It was plenty of time to hold a conversation. And then Kurt wouldn't be able to escape.

Kurt's brain froze for a moment. He apparently hadn't thought this through very well. It would be impossible to distance himself from Blaine if they were going to be spending so much time _alone _in a car every Thursday! He'd have to find some way out of this. Maybe ask someone else? But then what if he ended up being attracted to that guy? That would completely defeat the purpose!

"Sounds good," he said, surprised at his ability to keep his voice normal while his brain was having a meltdown. "See you at lunch tomorrow." And with that, Kurt opened the door and left before Blaine could stop him again.

He needed to find a way out of this mess. Soon.

* * *

**Conflicted!Kurt is conflicted!**

**Thoughts? Feelings? Concerns? Desire for brownies? Leave 'em in a review and I shall love you eternally!  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, long time no see! I am really sorry it has taken so long to get this chapter up. I was having trouble with school, but no worries now because I'm officially a college graduate! Huzzah! So now I'm settling down for a summer full of unemployment. Yay. -_- But at least that gives me plenty of time to keep this story going.  
**

**Anyway, I should be able to be a lot more regular with updates now that I'm done with school (FOREVER!). I have promised to finish this story and I fully intend to, no matter how long it takes!**

**As always, I want to thank those of you who have stuck with this story even through the irritatingly sporadic updates. You all are awesome and I love each of you! Now on with the show!**

By the time Thursday afternoon rolled around, Kurt found himself pacing nervously in the main hallway by Dalton's front doors. He had not been able to find another ride to Columbus so he would be stuck with Blaine. Alone. In a car. For at least thirty minutes there and back. Not only was Kurt sure that he would be subjected to uncomfortable and unwelcome conversation, but that annoying part of his brain that was excited to be spending time with Blaine _wouldn't shut up_. To try and dissuade any awkwardness, Kurt had brought along his history textbook. If he had to, he would resort to pulling the 'I-need-to-do-homework' card during the car ride so that he and Blaine wouldn't have to talk. He was going to have to talk enough once they got to his doctor's appointment.

If anything good was going to come out of going to talk to a shrink, then it better be that he could stop feeling this way about boys. Therapists could do that, couldn't they? Weren't they trained to change the way a person thought about themselves? To make them see themselves in a better light? Well, Kurt wanted desperately to see himself as straight. Then he wouldn't have to worry about being the target of homophobic bullies. His survival was more important than trying to re-create his previous life, especially if people didn't exactly approve of it to begin with.

Kurt's attention was snapped to attention when he heard Blaine call his name from the other end of the hallway. The shorter boy jogged over, keys dangling from his hand. Kurt tried to suppress an unwilling blush he could feel attempting to spread up his neck and into his cheeks. _Don't even start this right now! _he chided himself angrily, tearing his eyes away from the other boy and examining the smooth tiles under his feet instead. _You are _not _allowed to be smitten by him!_

"Ready to hit the road?" asked Blaine cheerily, starting off toward the parking lot.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Kurt mumbled under his breath as he followed Blaine outside, hugging his history textbook to his chest.

"Any word on when you get your casts off?" Blaine asked conversationally as they made their way over to his car.

Kurt shrugged lightly as the doors were unlocked and he gingerly arranged himself in the passenger's seat. Having half your limbs wrapped in plaster made getting in and out of vehicles slightly more difficult than usual. "By the end of next month, hopefully," he said airily, reaching for his seatbelt. "While I'm getting pretty good at doing everything with my left-hand, these damn things just keep getting in the way."

Blaine chuckled as he pulled out of the lot of Dalton Academy and headed toward the highway. The two of them made small-talk for a majority of the ride to Columbus. Blaine didn't want to just jump into any topics that could end up making the car ride uncomfortable so he decided that it might be best to just play things slowly. Perhaps bring some things up after he talked to the therapist. Maybe that was the better plan.

When they finally arrived at the clinic, Blaine noticed that Kurt was visibly apprehensive about his upcoming appointment. They both sat on a couch that was overly-stuffed and Blaine noticed as Kurt's eyes flickered around the room incessantly, seemingly looking for either a way out or a distraction. "Hey, it's gonna be fine," reassured Blaine, placing a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder. He realized that it was probably a bad move when he felt Kurt flinch at his touch. Blaine quickly removed his hand and apologized.

"Blaine, please do _not _touch me," Kurt requested under his breath. He kept his eyes focused on the floor. "It isn't helping anything." No, it definitely didn't help that any time Blaine touched him he felt simultaneously electrified and repulsed with himself. He was almost looking forward to this stupid appointment so that he could get this treatment started. Kurt was sick and tired of having these conflicting feelings all the time. He just wanted to be _normal_. Was that too much to ask?

Thankfully, a well-dressed woman came out of one of the doors and called Kurt's name before anything could get any more awkward between the two boys. Kurt got to his feet as quickly as his injured limbs would allow and, without a glance back at Blaine, followed the woman out of the waiting room.

Blaine sat there, confused and bordering on feeling hurt and rejected. Why was Kurt acting this way toward him? He remembered the phone conversation he'd had with Finn last week about Kurt being afraid of anything that even seemed remotely homosexual. Was that really what the problem was? Was Kurt trying to be straight? Was that the reason he seemed to be avoiding Blaine at school and coming up with various excuses to not have to spend time with him?

He didn't know what to really think about that. Should he try and support the fact that Kurt seemed so desperate to change who he was or should he rather try and get him to remember the real Kurt? The one that everyone knew and loved, the one who was so fashionable and sassy and who loved to sing. Where had that Kurt gone and would they ever get him back?

…

At the end of the allotted hour, Kurt shook hands with Dr. Bishop and thanked her for her time and assistance. He never would have thought it, but this session had actually been really nice and helpful. He was a little tense and mentally exhausted after talking about the multitude of things that made him uncomfortable and the myriad of emotions that went along with those, but he would calm down once he could just curl up on his bed back at Dalton and relax. It definitely made him think about everything, which he supposed was the point of the whole ordeal. Kurt just hoped that next week would bring a little more progress. He walked back into the waiting room to meet up with Blaine, who had his nose buried deep within his literature textbook.

"You ready to head back?" he asked tiredly, startling the other boy.

"It's already been an hour? Wow." Blaine checked his watch before returning his book to his backpack. "Let's head out, then."

Once they were on the road, Kurt noticed that Blaine kept giving him side-long glances when he thought he wasn't looking. He heaved a sigh and leaned his head back against the headrest. "Since I can tell that you're dying over there, it went well," he offered, watching the naked winter trees fly past them as they sped down the highway. "Gave me a lot to think about."

"Well that's good, then." He didn't see Blaine's reaction but was able to hear the slight hesitation and hopefulness in the next question he asked. "What sort of things did you talk about? I mean, you don't have to—"

"I'm not going to talk about my therapy sessions with you, Blaine," interrupted Kurt, shaking his head. "The situation is uncomfortable enough as is. I don't want to have to re-live everything that went on and then have to see you judge me for the things that I say."

Even though he was looking out the window, he still saw the shocked movement that Blaine made at his statement. "Judge you? Kurt, I would never—"

"No, stop right there," demanded Kurt angrily, finally turning to face Blaine. He was already cranky and worn out mentally from his session with the doctor and hearing Blaine innocently proclaim that he would never judge Kurt was enough to set him off. He completely snapped.

"You and every single fucking person I know has been judging me since this whole thing started. You judge the way I speak, the way I act… every little thing about me is constantly being analyzed by _everyone_. I can't even try to explain anything because you all think I'm so fucked in the head that every thought I have is some sort of effect of being hit in the head a few too many times. None of you can possibly understand _anything _that I have going on right now which is why I have to talk a fucking _therapist_. Do you even know how humiliating that is? But at least she is trained to handle nut-cases like me so I can stop listening to everyone I know who just wants me to be who _they _want me to be instead of accepting the fact that, hey guess what, I am _not _the same person anymore! I am so sick and tired of everyone trying to get that person back. Those memories were forgotten for a reason; I don't _want _to be that person. I don't _want_ to be the flaming fag who dresses and sings like a girl and gets the shit beat out of him on a regular basis! That isn't me anymore and you people need to start understanding that!"

Kurt wasn't sure exactly where that rant had come from, but it was done for now and he was actually glad that he had finally let out some of his honest feelings. He could feel angry heat radiating from his face as he finally stopped to breathe properly. A couple of furious tears had slipped out unnoticed as he glared at Blaine, daring him to contradict anything that he had just shouted at him. He vaguely registered the fact that they were now stopped on the side of the road; Blaine had apparently pulled the car over at some point during his tirade. Kurt couldn't exactly read the other boy's expression (probably because he was still on some sort of adrenaline rush for yelling at him), but he could tell that those words weren't what Blaine expected or wanted to hear.

There were a few moments of tense silence before Blaine's soft voice broke through the air. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Kurt," he said. "I wish you would have brought that up sooner. I'm sorry for the way that we all… that _I _have been treating you. I promise to make a bigger effort to accept you the way you are now instead of trying to get you to remember the things you don't want to remember."

The two boys made eye contact for a moment. Kurt's eyes were stern and determined while Blaine's were soft and defeated. After a long beat, Kurt quietly said, "Thank you. That really means a lot."

Blaine gave a silent nod before checking the traffic to pull back onto the main highway. Kurt felt that this was a small accomplishment. Sure, Blaine looked a bit heartbroken and upset, but he would get over it. If Kurt was successfully going to reinvent himself into a better person then he couldn't constantly have people holding him back and expecting something completely different out of him.

However, there was still one little problem that needed to be dealt with: His undesirable attraction to Blaine. Even now, a small part of Kurt's heart felt like it was breaking at seeing Blaine so upset over his recent outburst. Try as he might to completely ignore that part of him it kept coming back and, must to his distaste, those feelings actually seemed to get stronger the more time he spent with Blaine. Something would have to be done about that. He would have to find some way to convince his hormones that he was straight.

…

The rest of the return trip was uncomfortably silent. Blaine didn't even try to turn on the radio. All of his energy was put into making sure he didn't swerve off the road. His mind was in a numb haze after Kurt's little explosion. Kurt had every right to be angry with all of them, especially Blaine, but it was a shattering experience to hear all of those words actually come out of Kurt's mouth.

_I'm not the same person… I don't want to be that person… the flaming fag… that isn't me anymore…_

It all seemed to reply over and over in Blaine's mind as he drove, almost unconsciously, back to Dalton. He didn't even recall pulling into the parking lot or seeing Kurt head back to the dorms without so much as a thank you or a goodbye.

_I don't _want _to be that person._

He eventually found himself in his room, sitting on his bed and staring at the wall. Blaine noticed at some point that his phone was ringing, but he didn't really have the energy to answer it.

_That isn't me anymore and you people need to start understanding that!_

His phone continued to ring. Whoever was calling him was really persistent. Blaine grabbed his phone to check the caller ID, but it was an unknown number. Not worth his time.

He couldn't stop thinking about everything Kurt had said. Blaine wasn't sure what hurt more – the fact that Kurt accused him of not caring when in reality he probably cared too much or the fact that Kurt was trying to denounce and reject everything that made him who he is. Or was, he supposed. Blaine couldn't quite understand why Kurt was so adamant to be someone so completely different.

_I don't _want _to be the flaming fag who gets the shit beat out of him on a regular basis!_

Was this all about being gay? Was Kurt really hung up on _that_? It didn't make any sense. Kurt had always been so proud of who he was and had no shame about his sexuality. He had always been so confident and sure of himself. Had all that really changed? Blaine was sure that you couldn't change something like that. It was definitely something that was genetically coded for in each person. He put his head in his hands, his eyes closed tightly in thought.

Kurt couldn't really be straight, could he? That isn't something you can change. It isn't something you _should _change. There was nothing wrong with being gay!

_I don't _**want **_to be…_

Want. There was a big difference between 'I am not' and 'I don't want'. His brain was quickly drawing multiple conclusions but was interrupted from fully connecting any dots by his phone ringing again. He let out a loud sound of frustration as he finally picked up the phone.

"What?" he answered angrily, upset that his concentration had been ruined by whoever was on the other line.

"It's about time! You know, there could have been a real emergency and you would never know because you were too busy to pick up your phone! Someone could be dead!"

"Rachel?" Blaine was really not in the mood to talk with her at the moment.

"Of course! You sound surprised. Did you not have my number in your phone?" she asked, annoyingly chipper.

"Must not have," he groaned. "Is this important? I'm kind of in the middle of-"

"This is incredibly important, Blaine!" she told him, sounding as if she were about to reveal some sort of information of celestial significance. He waited as she paused for what he assumed to be for dramatic effect. "I've finished putting together Kurt's CD!" she announced.

"Oh." She _would_ finish that CD right after that outburst Kurt had earlier.

"_Oh_? Blaine, I expected you to be a little more ecstatic seeing as how this was all your idea to start with. I mean, I did do all of the work gathering the selected songs and putting them onto a CD for you. I listed them in order of significance, and you should be thrilled to know that-"

"I don't think this is a good idea anymore, Rachel," cut in Blaine.

"What? What do you mean, of course it's a good idea! Music is the perfect therapy for Kurt; it has played such an integral part of his life so it only makes sense that it would be the perfect trigger to get him to remember everything!"

"No, Rachel…" He heaved a sigh. "Things have changed and I don't think it's going to work anymore." Hearing the words made the situation seem so much more real, yet there was still a dream-like haze surrounding everything at the moment. He wished that the past couple of months were just a dream and that he would wake up and things would go back to the way they used to be.

"What do you mean, things have changed?" she asked, her tone part suspicious and part concerned. "Has he started remembering things on his own? You know you need to keep the rest of us informed of those sort of developments."

"No, he hasn't remembered anything," he replied. "He… he doesn't want to remember anything, Rachel. And he's really upset with everyone for constantly trying to make him remember things."

"But once we fix him he'll thank us," said Rachel with certainty. "We can put up with his attitude for now, it's all only temporary."

"But what if this isn't temporary?" asked Blaine? "The doctors said he would hopefully have his memory back by late December or early January. It's almost February now and there has been no improvement. What if it doesn't get any better? What if he never remembers anything?"

There was a pause on the phone before Rachel spoke up again. "You sound like you've given up. I didn't expect that from you of all people," she said softly. He couldn't tell if she sounded disappointed or just sad, but either way it wasn't a happy emotion.

"I'm not giving up," countered Blaine. "I'm just… being realistic. I want him to get better, I do, but I don't think it's going to happen. He doesn't want to get better, Rachel. He's determined to be a different person, to completely turn away from everything that he used to be."

"Have you tried talking to him?" she asked.

Blaine snorted. "Yeah, and then he yelled at me about how no one understands what he's going through and how he's tired of everyone trying to force him to be someone he's not. I know the old Kurt is in there somewhere, he has to be, but Kurt is so afraid of drawing attention to himself for being gay that he's adamant to be someone completely different. He kept saying that he didn't want to be that person anymore, that he didn't want to be gay anymore."

"That's not something you can just choose, though," commented Rachel.

"I know, trust me, I know, but I couldn't get a word in edge-wise to say so. I was thinking about it before you called…"

"I'd been calling you for almost forty minutes…"

"And I think that Kurt is just trying to pretend he's straight," he continued, ignoring Rachel's interruption. "He still has to be gay, there's no changing that, but he's been acting so different…" He paused to think about everything, trying to piece together everything that he's noticed about his friend in an attempt to figure everything out. "He always freaks out when someone touches him… whenever another guy touches him…"

"That could just be a defensive reaction left over from the attack, though," Rachel suggested.

"It could, yeah, but what if it's all to do with being perceived as gay? He got really worked up seeing himself in some of the videos you posted. Said they were really flaming or something." At this point Blaine was just thinking out loud seeing as how Rachel's phone call had interrupted his thought processes earlier. "He's got more of a personal-space bubble than he used to have, which could be due to the attack, yes, but still… And there was one time a few days ago where he seemed to get really flustered when I cornered him in my room." Was that because…?

"He used to always get really flustered whenever you were brought into the picture," added Rachel, following along with where he was going.

"He always gets really fidgety and defensive whenever I try to touch him…"

"Blaine, I think…"

"Do you think he's trying to…"

"Cover up a crush?"

"So he really is…"

"But if he's trying to turn himself straight…"

"He's afraid of being gay. Afraid that he'll get attacked again. That's why he's so determined to be someone different." Blaine felt like he'd hit some sort of jackpot. That _had _to be the reason for everything! He remembered the doctors saying something about the brain repressing memories that could be dangerous for someone's survival. If Kurt was really so afraid of being gay that was why he was acting so different; his brain had shut off those memories and those personality quirks as a safety mechanism. But that still didn't really change _who_ he was.

"If we could just convince him that everything would be fine and that there's nothing wrong with being gay…"

"I don't think he's going to listen to anything that I have to say at this point," admitted Blaine ruefully. Especially if Kurt really was trying so desperately to avoid Blaine because of a crush he knew he wouldn't be able to get any alone-time with him to discuss such matters.

"I could do it!" volunteered Rachel. "I have two gay dads so I can surely convince him and prove to him that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. Both my dads are fine and healthy and haven't been the victims of any serious hate crimes since they were in high school," she informed him. "I can visit Dalton sometime and have a talk with him about it. When would be a good time for me to come?" she asked.

"Any time. The sooner the better, I think," said Blaine, running a hand through his styled hair and freeing some of his curls from their hair product prison.

"Hmm…" Blaine could hear Rachel flipping through a day planner trying to find a suitable date to visit. "I have a shopping trip planned with my dads on Saturday. I could probably come by on Sunday as long as the roads aren't too bad. I think it's supposed to snow a bit this weekend."

"Definitely don't come if the roads aren't safe, but Sunday sounds great," Blaine affirmed.

"Okay. I'll come up with a reasonable excuse and let Kurt know to expect me on Sunday. Considering the delicate circumstances, you probably shouldn't be there, no offense," she added.

"No, I agree. I'll stay in my room or in the library or something. I won't even know you're here," he said with a smile.

"It's a deal, then!" agreed Rachel, a grin evident in her voice. "I won't see you on Sunday!" she said with an air of conspiracy.

"I certainly won't," added Blaine. They said their goodbyes and hung up their phones. Blaine sat and looked at his phone for a moment, a ghost of a smile on his lips. It seemed that Rachel's phone call ended up bringing a whole slew of good things. Things were finally starting to look up again. He felt a slight pang of guilt as he remembered that he had promised Kurt earlier that he would stop trying to change him and accept him for who he was now. Plotting to do the exact opposite with Rachel wasn't exactly keeping to that promise. But it would hopefully all be worth it in the end when Kurt finally was able to be himself again. His real self.


	13. Chapter 13

**Look, another chapter! Yay! I'm excited that things are finally moving forward at a better pace with this story. I have quite a few Things that I want to include but now I'm at the point of trying to figure out the proper places to put them. We shall see.**

**As always, thanks for all the watches, favs, and reviews! You have absolutely no idea how happy I get when I see a new review! I love seeing what you guys think, what concerns you all have, and generally how everyone is reacting. **

**I hope everyone has a great weekend and, to those in the States, please celebrate the 4th safely!**

**Hugs and loves to you all!**

…

Sunday afternoon found Kurt bent over his textbooks in an attempt to actually get some schoolwork done. He wasn't feeling as horrible these days so he figured he should start putting a little more effort into his studies. His exams weren't going to pass themselves, after all. Kurt told himself that it wouldn't really matter how he did in his classes, though. It wasn't like he didn't have a good excuse on why he could do poorly. Maybe it would be better to just flunk out. Then he could get out of this all-boys school. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so exposed all the time. And he wouldn't have to see Blaine on a daily basis, either.

Just as he was contemplating this, there was a knock on his door. _Great. Blaine wants to do some more bonding. _He ignored it hoping that the boy would just take the hint and leave, but barely a minute passed before the person on the other side just knocked louder and more rapidly.

Kurt heaved a sigh and pushed himself out of his chair. "Alright, I'm coming!" he called, limping the few steps over to the door and turning the knob. He expected to see Blaine on the other side offering to hang out or help with homework or some other such task that required them to be within close proximities to each other (which that annoying part of his brain thought was a rather splendid idea). What he didn't expect was to be enthusiastically assaulted by a brown-haired female.

"Kurt! It's so good to see you! I was worried you wouldn't be in and then I would have made this trip for nothing!"

"Rachel? What are you doing here?" asked Kurt as he removed himself from the girl's tight embrace.

Rachel simply grinned and let herself into his room. "I was making my monthly rounds to perform at some nursing homes – it's something I do so that the elderly and infirm can enjoy stunning live performances that they would otherwise be unable to attend – and decided to drop in since I was nearby!" she announced as she made herself comfortable on his bed. Kurt just glanced at her with a very confused expression.

"So you travel to nursing homes two hours away just to sing for old people?" he asked, not sure if he believed her story or not. While it did seem to match what he knew of Rachel's personality (he had to mostly go by what everyone had told him about her since she was one of the handful of people his brain had chosen to forget) he also found it to be a little suspicious.

"Everyone should be able to experience my talent no matter the distance," she asserted firmly. "And besides, this just gives me the perfect excuse to see you!" she added with a wide smile.

Kurt nodded slowly and sat himself back down in his chair. "You could have at least given me a heads-up," he told her.

Rachel just shrugged. "I was going to let you know but then I thought it would be better if it were a surprise. Aren't you surprised to see me?" she asked hopefully.

_Is she serious? _"I suppose," he replied slowly, running his hand over his hair (it was still in the process of growing back out and so felt slightly prickly when he touched it).

The bubbly brunette seemed satisfied with that answer. "Then everything worked out perfectly!" she exclaimed. Kurt was already finding her personality grating; maybe that was why he had forgotten about her after his accident. "So let's catch up, Kurt. What have you been up to?" she asked, adjusting herself on the bed so she was directly facing him.

"Um, school mostly," answered Kurt. What else did she expect?

"I mean besides school, silly. How is Warbler practice going? Not that I'm here to spy or anything, I'm just curious as to what you've been doing since I last saw you."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at her. Surely she had to know that he quit the Warblers. Finn knew at any rate and Kurt found it hard to believe that his step-brother wasn't keeping everyone in Lima up-to-date on every single thing about him. "I'm not in the Warblers," he told her matter-of-factly.

"_What?_" Rachel gasped dramatically, obviously trying to fake surprise. She was really bad at it. The wide eyes and holding her hand up to her face in the classic 'oh-no!' pose really gave it away. "Why not? You're such a good vocalist! You were only second in talent to me at McKinley."

Kurt rolled his eyes, deciding to go along with the charade that Rachel didn't already know this information. If she was determined to act dumb then he would happily help her along. "I just figured I should focus on classes. Besides, it's not like I can really hurry to any practices or other extracurriculars," he added, lifting up his casted leg as evidence.

Rachel waved away his explanation. "Oh please, like that really matters," she said off-handedly. "If anything, you need to do something besides schoolwork to keep yourself stimulated. And what better stimulation is there than music? None, I tell you. None at all." At this point, she started rummaging through her large purse. "I have a CD here that you might like; it has a lot of great songs on it to you to get you back in the swing of things," she said, pulling a plastic CD case out of her purse. She held it out in front of her as if it were some magnificent work of art or something equally important.

_Now it all makes sense,_ thought Kurt bitterly. He stared at the CD case held in Rachel's outstretched hands but made no move to retrieve it. Instead he studied Rachel's hopeful face, searching for any give-away. After a moment of silence, he voiced a concern that had suddenly surfaced in his mind. "Did Blaine put you up to this?"

No matter what Rachel said, her reaction completely gave her away. Her face poorly portrayed an accurate depiction of surprise and her tone as she said, "What? Of course not!" just begged to be called out as fake. Kurt let out a frustrated groan and shook his head. "Why can't any of you just give up on this?" he asked.

Rachel put down the CD and rose to her feet, her expression now one of desperation. "Kurt, listen, I don't—"

"Why is it so difficult for you to understand that I am not the same Kurt that you all are so familiar with anymore? Is it really that hard to accept?" He was so tired of everyone trying all these ways of getting him to revert back to his old self. He just wanted things to be simple, wanted people to just take his word at face-value on who he was and what he liked or didn't like. It wasn't a huge request but it seemed to be one that no one was willing to even make the attempt to fulfill.

"Kurt, could you please just let me say something?" demanded Rachel.

"Fine, whatever, spill out your soul," Kurt practically spat. "But don't think that whatever you say is going to be an instant cure-all and suddenly fix all of my problems," he warned her. That seemed to be what everyone thought. If they could just do or say that _one _thing to him, that would somehow trigger a mental reversal and put him back to normal. But he was done with everyone treating him like some sort of experiment. He supposed he would humor Rachel this time, however. She did drive all this way just to speak her mind (he didn't buy that story on how she just _happened _to be in the neighborhood… what a load of horse shit).

Rachel nodded. "I'm not expecting anything I say to fix you, Kurt. You don't need to be fixed. But I would like to say a few things and I would really appreciate it if you just let me say my piece without interrupting." She stared at him and waited until he waved his arm in acceptance of her condition.

_Oh, this oughta be good_, he thought with bitter amusement.

"Thank you." Rachel took a moment to gather herself, looking very theatrical as she took a deep breath and seemed to collect all of her thoughts. This girl was quite the drama queen. "Now, first off, no, Blaine didn't put me up to this. _I _called _him _a few days ago and the topic of you just happened to come up…" (_More like you called to talk about me_, he thought, but kept his mouth shut) "…and one of the things we discussed was your sexuality."

At this point, Kurt opened his mouth to argue but Rachel held out her hand. "NO! You are _not _allowed to interrupt me!" Kurt angrily shut his mouth and glared at Rachel. He was all kinds of upset at this point. What right did everyone else have to discuss something like that about him? _Especially_ when he himself was so damn conflicted over it?

Satisfied that he wouldn't interrupt, Rachel continued. "I don't think you remember, but I have two gay dads, Kurt. Two amazing, wonderful, loving gay dads. I couldn't ask for any better parents. And yes, they had problems in high school and they occasionally get some homophobes these days who can't stand how happy they are together but you know what? None of that matters because they know that for every person out there that hates them there are ten more who absolutely love them. Maybe the odds weren't the same in high school, but high school sucks for everyone except cheerleaders and jocks. They always have it easy. Except for Quinn, I guess, she's a bit of an exception. But anyway," she shook her head as she realized she was getting off-topic.

"The point I'm trying to make is that there will always be people out there who hate you for who you are. But those people don't matter because the people who love you will be by your side, unconditionally, helping you forget about the slurs and the slushies and the hate. And we all love you, Kurt. Everyone in glee, both here and at McKinley, we all love you so much. And your family will always love and support you. We all just want you to be happy and to be happy being you." Rachel finally stopped talking and looked at Kurt expectantly. "That was about all I had prepared to say," she added, letting him know that he was now free to speak.

Kurt didn't move for a moment. He wasn't sure what to think about everything Rachel had said. It was definitely rehearsed, but surprisingly not in a condescending fashion. Everything Rachel said seemed heartfelt. But that didn't change anything. "If everyone loves me so much," he started slowly, "and everyone is so ready to support me, then why can't everyone support me the way I am?" he questioned.

"Because this isn't you, Kurt," said Rachel in an almost desperate tone. "You are trying so hard to be someone else that you are pushing your true identity aside."

"Isn't that the entire point of trying to be someone else?" asked Kurt sarcastically.

"So you don't deny it?"

"Deny what?"

"The fact that you _are _trying to be someone that you're not," clarified Rachel.

"So what if I am?" demanded Kurt. "What business is it of yours what I want to do? This is my life. My choices. If I want to reinvent myself, don't I have the freedom to do that? If I decide to change things about me so that I'm not a constant target for people who want to, oh I don't know, bludgeon me to near-death, I think I should be allowed to do that for my own safety."

"But _why_, Kurt?" Rachel pleaded.

"I just explained why," Kurt replied in an exasperated tone. "To keep people from trying to kill me all the time!"

"Is that why you're trying so hard to cover up your crush on Blaine?"

Kurt froze. That was an accusation he wasn't prepared to deal with. What was he supposed to say? _Yes, that actually is _exactly _why I've turned into the world's only homosexual homophobe. I'm afraid of what my feelings for Blaine mean and I don't want those feelings there in the first place. _He stood there flabbergasted for a moment, unsure of what to do after something like that.

"He really cares about you, you know," Rachel continued in a soft voice. "I'd be willing to bet he even loves you."

Kurt's mind spun. Blaine was gay? He tried to recall whether or not he knew that already but found no evidence in his memory. He never really thought about it. That explained so many things about his behavior. It all started to fall together and make sense.

"And you've been crazy about him since you first met," she added with a smile. "Mercedes and I actually had a bit of a bet going on how long it would take for you two to get together. You and Blaine are so—"

"Get out." Kurt finally found his voice again.

"What?" asked Rachel, apparently surprised by his sudden request.

"I don't want you in here anymore," clarified Kurt in a calm and steady tone.

"But—"

"Out." There was no room left for arguing. Kurt glared at Rachel as if staring at her hard enough would reduce her to a smoldering pile of ash.

Defeated, Rachel gave a meek nod and walked over to the bed to collect her purse. She picked up the CD and handed it to him. "I still want you to have this," she said quietly. "It has all your favorite songs on it."

Kurt shook his head and made no move to accept the CD. "I don't want it," he said with finality.

Rachel chewed her bottom lip for a brief moment before nodding and sliding the CD case back into her purse. She slowly made her way over to the door. As she made to walk out, she turned in the doorway and glanced at Kurt again. "I hope you'll at least think about everything I said. And I really did mean it when I said that we all love you, Kurt."

Kurt stared at the wall and didn't acknowledge her parting statement. He didn't move his eyes until minutes after the door had closed quietly. It wasn't until he changed his focus that he realized that he'd been crying. He had no idea when that had started. Kurt angrily wiped at his tears. He didn't even know _why _he was crying. Was he angry? Depressed? Ashamed? Guilty? Furious? Maybe a little bit of everything.

But one thing was for certain; the tears certainly didn't make his life any less confusing.


	14. Chapter 14

**You guys. This chapter. Oh my gosh. This was hard to write. You are not prepared for what is about to happen. Seriously. Shit's about to hit the fan. As a fair warning, there is Bad Language. Just so ya know. And I really need to see your reactions to this and I will love you forever if you leave a review with your incoherent ramblings. **

**Now read it! GO GO GO!**

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"Okay, I want you boys to pair up and dissect out the various intercostal and abdominal muscles in the cats. Gloves and tools are on the front table. You have forty minutes."

The twenty or so boys in Kurt's anatomy class scattered to pair off and claim the least smelly of the feline corpses. Luckily one of the students took pity on Kurt and volunteered to be his partner.

"I probably won't be much help with only one hand," Kurt said apologetically as he struggled to put a latex glove on his left hand.

His partner, a lanky boy of Indian descent named Pravesh, waved it away. "It's no big deal. It's not like four hands can really fit inside one of these cats anyway," he said with a shrug, using a scalpel to gingerly cut into the cat's chest cavity. When the opportunity arose, Kurt held back a limb or a flap of skin or muscle while Pravesh worked on the more delicate work of dissecting out the assigned muscle groups.

Kurt paid attention as much as he could, but his conversation with Rachel from the previous night kept interrupting his thoughts. That conversation had even kept him from sleeping well the night before. Whenever he was able to finally fall asleep, his dreams were plagued by uncomfortable nightmares that he couldn't quite remember when he woke up. It had been incredibly frustrating to keep waking up from dreams that he couldn't even recall. Kurt just knew that none of them had been very good dreams. They left him exhausted and on edge throughout the entire morning. He was surprised he was functional enough to even participate at all during this anatomy lesson.

Kurt kept mulling over his thoughts as he helped Pravesh as much as he was able to. He debated on seeing if his partner happened to know any information that could help him at least feel a little better about this whole situation. By the time they had identified half of the muscles they were assigned to Kurt decided to go ahead see what all he could learn from his partner.

"Can I ask you something, Pravesh?" Kurt asked with slight hesitation.

"If it's about the blood supply to these muscles, you'd better call Mr. Harrington over here because I'm not entirely sure about it," replied the other boy, staring intently at their cat.

"No, it's nothing about the cat," he said, shaking his head. "Do you know Blaine Anderson?" he asked, lowering his voice so as to not be overheard by other classmates.

Pravesh nodded. "Yeah, he's the lead of the Warblers. Really nice guy. Can you grab these obliques so I can try to get in a little deeper?"

"Oh, sure." Kurt obliged and grabbed the indicated muscles so that his partner could continue working. "What else do you know about him?" he continued, trying to be nonchalant.

"Mmm, well… he's a really good student. One of the top in all his classes. He was a transfer awhile back 'cause of some gay bashing at his other school. My sister's in the choir over at Crawford and met him at one of their competitions. Practically fell in love with him. It nearly broke her heart when I told her that he was gay," he said, chuckling slightly at the memory.

"So he's really gay?" asked Kurt quietly. He wasn't sure whether he was hoping for a positive or negative response at this point.

Pravesh gave a nod. "Oh yeah. I'm pretty sure the whole school knows. But everyone's real chill about it, y'know? It's not a big deal or anything. And with Dalton's zero-tolerance policy anyone who said anything bad to him or anyone else would be booted out quicker than anything. He's just a cool dude that likes other dudes. And I don't think our cat has a transverse abdominus," he added, using the probe and his gloved fingers to sort through the few different muscles he had already dissected out.

"I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be there," commented Kurt, turning to look at their book. His mind was only half focused on helping to search for the missing muscle, though. The only thing really running through his brain was the verification that Blaine was indeed gay. And everyone knew. And, apparently, pretty much everyone also knew that Kurt was supposed to be gay. And everyone was okay with that?

But it didn't make sense! If no one here cared about whether or not someone was gay then _why _had he been targeted for that precise reason? Was this the only place in the state where people didn't care? What if that was just because there were so many gay students here? What happened when other people, people outside of these walls, found out that they went to an essentially gay school?

Kurt suddenly remembered one of his unnerving dreams from last night. He'd been surrounded by at least four muscled, faceless jocks in a parking lot. They were taunting him. _"Look who's back from his little homo Hogwarts." "Isn't that uniform just the gayest thing you've ever seen?" "I bet he's even more of a fag now that he's been at that school." "Are they teaching you how to be a good little ass fucker over there, Hummel?"_ They grabbed him. Ripped his uniform jacket off. Dumped the contents of his backpack over his head. Then the beating had started…

"Kurt? Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt blinked rapidly and looked at Pravesh. His lab partner looked concerned. "You look really pale all of a sudden. Is the formaldehyde getting to you?"

He didn't respond. When had he started breathing so quickly? And why was his heart suddenly racing?

"Mr. Harrington!"

It was the school. It was all because of the school. He had to leave. Had to get away from this place. He had to get away from everything here. They were just going to keep hunting him down and hurting him and trying to kill him. He needed to get out before it was too late.

"Kurt? Kurt, I need you to look at me."

There were hands on his shoulders and _oh god, they're going to do it again. _He hastily backed up until he bumped into another lab bench. He heard something clatter to the ground loudly and for some reason he instantly assumed it was an aluminum baseball bat. _Nonononono! _The hands let go.

"I need everyone to leave the room. Now. Someone get the nurse." There was a flurry of activity as bodies shuffled around the room. _They're coming at me_. Kurt continued to back up until he had wedged himself between a bench and the wall, putting himself as far away from his imagined attackers as possible.

"You need to breathe, Kurt. Slowly."

Breathing. Breathing was good. Breathing meant he was still alive. He inhaled deeply, shakily.

"That's it. Nice and easy. Now breathe out. Good. Big breath in, hold, big breath out. Breathe in, wait, breathe out."

Kurt breathed along with the soothing, calm voice. As his breathing started to return to normal, his mind began to clear. He realized that he was in the middle of a classroom, practically huddled into a corner. He wasn't surrounded by high school thugs, but by one of his concerned teachers. He was okay. He was in no immediate danger.

At that moment, the door opened and a young man wearing scrubs dashed into the room. He closed the door again to keep out the curious, prying students waiting in the hallway and made his way over. "What seems to be the issue here, Peter?"

"Kurt was having a panic attack, but I think we've got it under control now."

The nurse looked Kurt over, careful to not touch him. "How are you feeling now, Kurt?" he asked.

After a slight pause, Kurt answered, a little shocked at how soft and breathy his voice sounded. "I-I think I'm okay."

The nurse nodded and seemed to be making mental notes. "Alright. Have you ever had a panic attack before?"

Kurt tried to think. Had he? He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so," he replied.

"Okay," said the nurse, giving another nod. "Why don't you come with me to my office and lay down for awhile," he suggested. "You look exhausted and I want to make sure you're alright before sending you back to your room. No more class for you today. Are you okay to walk?" he asked, to which Kurt replied with a small nod. "The halls should be pretty empty right now, so let's go ahead and make our way over.

Kurt gained proper control of his legs. He felt a little woozy, but not enough that he needed support to walk. He followed the nurse out of the classroom (pointedly ignoring the stares of his classmates) and to the small clinic situated near the administrative offices. The nurse gave him a paper cup full of water and pointed him to one of the few beds in the room. Kurt hobbled over to the closest bed and sat on it, slowly sipping on his water.

_What_ had just happened? A panic attack? And that dream… had it been an actual memory? Did that mean he was starting to remember things? But if he remembered everything then he would go back to being his special gay self and this would just happen all over again. He didn't want that to happen. Kurt didn't want things to go back to the way they used to be. It was too dangerous. And apparently being a part of this school just made him a bigger target. He had to find a way to get out of this place.

By the time the nurse had deemed him well-enough to return to his room near the end of the school day the hallways were filled with uniformed boys walking to their next class, supervised by a smattering of teachers to make sure there was no excessive roughhousing. Just thinking about the uniform and its implications made Kurt feel claustrophobic. The first thing he planned on doing when he got back to his room was to take his stupid uniform off and stuff it in the closet. Kurt didn't want to be associated with it any more than necessary. He was going to have to find some way to convince his dad to let him drop out of this school, especially if attending Dalton made him a bigger target.

He made it back to his room without any incidents, though he did have an unnerving paranoia that all the students in the hall were watching him. It was like they all _knew _about him and were just waiting for the right moment to make his life hell. Kurt quickly shrugged out of his Dalton blazer and threw it haphazardly across the room before crashing onto his bed. He needed to sleep. Maybe after a good nap he would feel better and would be able to think this whole thing through more sensibly. Thanks to the emotional day he'd had, it wasn't long before Kurt was finally asleep.

Hours later, Kurt woke up quickly, startled by something. He felt nervous and on edge for some reason; the hairs on his arms were standing on end and he felt hyper-aware of everything. After scanning the room and finding no reasonable cause for his fear he decided that whatever he'd been dreaming about was the cause of all of this. As he tried to recall what he'd been dreaming about, images seemed to slip through the tiny cracks in his mind, taunting him as he failed to fully grasp onto what they meant. He noticed that he was shaking slightly. Kurt shook his head. This was the second night in a row where he had been bothered by dreams that he couldn't remember, dreams that probably had something to do with the attack.

He rolled over and looked at the clock. It's bright and cheery numbers read 4:00am. Kurt let out a groan, knowing that there would be no way that he'd be able to fall back asleep and he had quite awhile before his first class. As he sat up his stomach growled loudly, alerting him to the fact that he'd accidently skipped dinner the night before. There was no way he'd be able to get any food at this hour, though, so he'd have to deal with it until the dining hall opened in a couple of hours.

Needing something to occupy his mind for awhile, Kurt decided to get on his computer to research Dalton's zero-tolerance policy a bit. It would be a good idea to be familiar with the high standards of Dalton's behavioral expectations. Perhaps he could somehow use the information to his advantage to get himself out of the school. If he was able to catch someone calling him crude names he could use that as an excuse to let his dad transfer him out.

Luckily Dalton's student handbook was available on their website. After a quick download, Kurt began thoroughly reading the sections about grounds for expulsion and suspension, which he was happy to note, was heavily entwined with the zero-tolerance policy. As he read through everything, he started to form a few plans in his head that could get him out of this school. He could definitely use this to his advantage. Once he was out of this school and was no longer affiliated in any way, people would have no reason to associate him with the 'homo Hogwarts' and he would be safe.

By the time classes started that day, Kurt was already exhausted. He supposed being up since 4am would do that. He trudged through his classes, only half paying attention to what his teachers were saying. While he may not have been able to focus on academics, he certainly did not fail to notice how quite a few students continued to stare at him in the hallway. Kurt assumed that word about his panic attack the day before had spread and now everyone was just waiting for him to flip out again. Great. Just what he needed.

The paranoid part of his brain was also unnerved by the possibility that they were all waiting for him to start tap-dancing down the hallways in a corset and a wig or something equally as gay. They all knew, he was sure of it. They all knew he was gay. He shook his head. No, he _wasn't _gay. He wasn't allowed to be. They all just thought he was. The fact that he sometimes found himself staring at a few of Dalton's students had absolutely _nothing _to do with sexual preference. He just zoned out and happened to be staring at them. Yeah, that was it. He didn't actively check-out other guys and he certainly didn't think about Blaine more than was necessary. It was all just coincidence. And the fact that he felt a smile tug at his lips every time he saw Blaine… that was just… he was probably also thinking about something else. Because he was _not _attracted to Blaine.

"Hey there, Kurt."

Kurt jumped slightly at hearing Blaine's voice from behind him, especially since he'd just be thinking about him (not thinking _about _him, he told himself. He just happened to be thinking _of _him. That was different, right?). "Do you really have to sneak up on me like that?" he demanded.

"Sorry, I thought you saw me," apologized Blaine. "I walked right by you and you looked at me."

"I did?" _Damn_. "Sorry, I guess I was just spacing out. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"It's no problem. I just wanted to see how you were feeling today," said Blaine with a concerned tone.

Kurt rolled his eyes as they walked together through the hallway. It was right before lunch so there were a lot of other students and teachers ambling around. "I assume you're talking about the fact that I apparently had a panic attack yesterday. Word sure travels fast in this place," he commented bitterly. _Especially when it has to do with me_, he added mentally. It seemed that he wasn't allowed to have any sense of privacy in this place. Or anywhere, for that matter.

"Boys gossip as much as girls do," commented Blaine with a small smile. "So how've you been this morning?"

"Oh, I've just been _peachy_," he snapped. He noticed a quick change in Blaine's expression as the other boy seemed to notice that this conversation was not going to go well. "I haven't slept well for the past few days, everyone keeps staring at me like I'm about to explode and apparently I'm the topic of everyone's conversations. I'm doing just _great_."

Blaine reached out a hand to try and console Kurt but seemed to think better of it and retracted it before any contact was made. Kurt suddenly felt like a great opportunity had just been placed before him. He jumped on it.

"And I don't want you to touch me, Blaine!" he stated, raising his voice. "I don't want _anyone _to touch me, especially little fags like you!"

The hallway went silent. Every student was now staring at the pair of them. Blaine's eyes were wide with surprise, confusion, and hurt. "Kurt, I…"

"No! I don't want anything to do with you anymore! I'm not going to be a fucking fag like you! I'm tired of having to listen to your fairy words of wisdom. You're just trying to get me to be a queer, too!"

"Kurt, please stop!" begged Blaine quietly, looking around nervously. He tried to close the space between them so that he could speak only to Kurt. "You don't mean that, you're going to get yourself expelled."

When Blaine stepped closer, Kurt figured that if he was going to do this, he may as well go all out on it. "Get away from me, you fag!" With that, Kurt pulled back his right arm and swung it at Blaine's face. It probably wouldn't have done much on its own, but the addition of the plaster cast definitely added some extra force. Blaine stumbled backwards, clutching his cheek and looked at Kurt with such a hurt expression that it was almost painful to see.

"Mr. Hummel!"

Kurt turned to see a teacher pushing his way through the throng of students that had surrounded them. He looked pissed. _Finally! _he thought.

"Come with me to the office. Now."

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**KUUURT! WHAT DID YOU DO?**


	15. Chapter 15

**So... have you ever had that moment where you're writing and suddenly the characters start doing their own thing that totally wasn't in the original outline? Yeah, totally happened in this chapter. A lot. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter because I don't know where most of this content came from. Kurt just kinda started doing his own thing and then... well... you'll see. **

**Lemmie know what ya think! Hugs and loves to everyone! xoxo  
**

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"Headmaster, please, you can't expel Kurt!"

"On the contrary, Mr. Anderson, his actions leave me no other choice. Between the verbal assaults and the physical attack, Mr. Hummel's behavior was disgraceful and, as outlined in the disciplinary handbook, subject to immediate expulsion."

Blaine tried to think of something, anything he could say that would lessen Kurt's punishment. He had no idea what had provoked Kurt to do what he had done, but he couldn't have really meant any of it, right? Kurt would never call Blaine a… well, he would never use those words in the first place let alone direct them at him! Right? Something must be wrong.

More wrong than usual, anyway.

"Headmaster, I don't take offense to anything Kurt said, really. We're friends, he would never mean any of that."

"Friends don't use that sort of language or show friendly affection by a solid punch to the face. Unless this is some sort of new teenage thing that I am unaware of," he added with a sarcastic quirk of an eyebrow. The headmaster sat sternly at his desk, going through some paperwork regarding the afternoon's incident as he spoke with Blaine. Kurt had already been sent to his room to pack up his things; his father had been notified and was on his way to pick up his son. Blaine had arrived at his office as soon as the nurse let him go after bandaging up his cheek.

Blaine sighed. He knew the situation looked bad from an outsider's view. "He didn't mean it, Headmaster, I know he didn't. His condition…"

"As far as I have been informed, Mr. Hummel's medical condition affects his memory, not his sense of moral judgement. If that were the case, then I would consider a suspension instead of expulsion. But that is not the case and my decision is final. You are excused."

Blaine opened his mouth to speak again, to try and argue on Kurt's behalf, but at a stern glance from the headmaster changed his mind. He hesitated a moment, trying for his best kicked-puppy expression while the headmaster looked at him.

After a moment, the headmaster sighed and Blaine was sure that he'd broken through. "Listen, Blaine," he started, speaking in a gentler tone. "I know you care for Kurt, but rules are rules. If I let this slide then it will be seen as being too lenient with the disciplinary procedures. Other students will act out, parents will complain that I was playing favorites or some such notion. I don't want to expel the boy, but I do have to follow protocol. You understand, don't you?"

He'd been defeated. Blaine couldn't help but hang his head as he mumbled, "Yes, sir, I do."

With that, Blaine exited the headmaster's office. This was all wrong. None of it made sense. Why would Kurt do something like that? He could understand why Kurt was trying to be straight, but this… outburst didn't fit into that at all. No matter how he went through the scenario in his mind he couldn't come up with an answer that made sense. Then again, nothing that Kurt did recently made much sense, so why should he expect this to?

In any other situation, Blaine would have been a little upset at someone calling him those names and then clocking him in the face. He didn't get as upset over it as he did in middle school, but those words still stung when said with enough force. And to hear them come out of Kurt's mouth, of all people… it just didn't make sense. Blaine wasn't upset about the things Kurt had called him. Okay, well, maybe he was a _little_ hurt. But he was mostly concerned with the _why _of the situation. What in the world had caused Kurt to lash out at him like that?

Blaine realized that his feet were taking him in the direction of Kurt's dorm. He stopped when he noticed, unsure if he should continue or not. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to talk with the other boy, to ask him why he had acted in such a way. But there was a chance that Kurt would just clam up like he usually did and refuse to acknowledge him, especially after what had just happened in the hallway. As he mulled over his choices, he caught a glance of himself in the window of an empty classroom. Blaine touched the bandage on his cheek; it hadn't really been that bad, just a few good sized scrapes, but the nurse saw a need to bandage it up anyway. He'd also been warned that the area would definitely bruise. Blaine wasn't bothered by that. He had been beat up plenty of times before. He just wanted to know _why_.

He shouldn't have been too surprised when he eventually did find himself outside of Kurt's door. It was cracked open and he could hear rustling movement inside, but Blaine didn't dare enter without making his presence known. He mustered up his resolve and knocked soundly on the door. There was a moment before the door was pulled open to reveal Kurt standing before his stripped bedroom. The other boy's eyes narrowed instantly upon seeing Blaine in his doorway.

"I don't really think we have anything to say to each other," said Kurt. He started to close the door. Blaine was having none of that and promptly held the door open with his hands.

"No, I think we have plenty of things that we need to say to each other," he countered, pushing himself into the room. Normally he would never consider being so forward and aggressive, but Kurt's dad was going to be here soon and then Kurt would be gone. Blaine didn't know if he'd have a chance to get anything out of the boy again, so it had to be now.

Kurt simply rolled his eyes and didn't try to fight back. Instead, he went to his closet and continued carelessly packing his things into a half-filled suitcase lying on the bed. Blaine watched for a brief moment in silence before finally speaking up. "Why did you do that, Kurt?"

"The clothes have to go somewhere," he commented lightly, tossing another shirt into the suitcase without even bothering to fold it.

"I'm not talking about your packing methods," said Blaine, staring at Kurt intently. The other boy let out a loud sigh and turned to look at him. His eyes landed on the bandage adhered to Blaine's cheek and his gaze visibly softened.

"Was it really that bad?" he asked quietly, seeming almost ashamed of what he had done.

Caught off guard by the change in attitude, Blaine faltered for a moment before shaking his head. "Not really. Your cast just scraped off a layer of skin or so. I've had worse." Blaine studied Kurt's expression. He was normally fairly good at reading people, but lately Kurt had proved difficult, especially with how often his mood seemed to change. But there was definitely remorse on his face right now, that much he was certain. Kurt seemed to regret what he had done.

"I'm sorry, for what it's worth." The other boy spoke so quietly that Blaine almost didn't catch the apology. Blaine relaxed a little and stopped staring at Kurt so aggressively.

"Then why did you do it?" he asked just as softly.

Kurt made a frustrated noise and turned back to his closet. "Because I had to, Blaine, okay?"

That wasn't exactly the response Blaine was expecting. "What? What do you mean you _had _to?" he asked, confused.

"I just… I can't stay here. I need to get out," replied Kurt in a desperate tone, busying himself in the closet so he wouldn't have to face Blaine.

Blaine narrowed his eyes in concern and confusion. Kurt was getting himself expelled on purpose? "Why do you need to get out?" he asked.

"I just do, Blaine, okay?" huffed Kurt, shoving an armful of notebooks and other assorted school supplies on top of the rumpled clothing in his suitcase (something that the old Kurt would never have done for fear of unwanted wrinkles). "You wouldn't understand," he added under his breath, just loud enough for Blaine to catch wind of it.

"I'd understand everything a lot better if you'd just tell me, Kurt," Blaine practically pleaded. "I want to be there for you but I can't when you make it so difficult to have a conversation all the time." Blaine was honestly surprised that Kurt hadn't kicked him out yet. He was going to milk this opportunity for all it was worth.

But despite Blaine's pleading, Kurt just shook his head. "Well I'm sorry for making _your _life difficult," he snapped bitterly. "Forgive me for not dropping all of my problems to make you feel special." Kurt crossed the room and started rummaging through desk drawers, many of which were already empty.

"You know that's not what I meant," said Blaine. "I just wish you could trust me like you used to. I wish you could talk to me and tell me what's wrong."

He watched as Kurt tried frantically to distract himself with any task in his room so he wouldn't have to give his full attention to this conversation. But the boy had already been so quick and thorough to get his room cleaned out that there wasn't much left to do. He watched as Kurt helplessly paced around the room for a moment, biting down on his bottom lip as he was apparently trying to make a very difficult decision.

Kurt finally stopped pacing and turned to face Blaine. It was in that moment that Blaine caught a look of child-like vulnerability on Kurt's face. He seemed scared and confused and upset and so many other things. It broke Blaine's heart and he wanted to reach out and hold him, to tell him that things would get better. But he knew Kurt would just recoil from any physical contact from him, especially if his and Rachel's suspicions were correct about Kurt desperately trying to cover up his crush on Blaine.

And it was when Kurt spoke that Blaine knew he couldn't be angry at him for withholding his feelings. "I can't, Blaine." It was quiet, but in the silent room it was loud enough. His voice, soft and weak and almost unsteady as if he were holding back stronger emotions, almost brought Blaine to tears. "I want to but I… I can't. I just- I don't…"

The air in the room was thick with undefined emotions. Perhaps that was why Blaine did what he did next. In times like this, he acted with his heart. And his heart saw a broken boy who needed to be comforted. Before his mind had a chance to bring him back to the logical world, Blaine had crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Kurt.

His mind was instantly in control again and he was about to let go for fear of being hit again. But he noticed that Kurt wasn't moving away from him. In fact, the taller boy leaned his forehead against Blaine's shoulder. And cried.

They were silent tears, but Blaine could feel the boy sobbing as he held him in his arms. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to keep his own tears at bay but he was unable to stop a few that leaked out.

This was all so messed up. The two of them had been best friends, possibly on their way to being more than that and then in the blink of an eye it had all been forgotten. Everything that he'd been working so hard for, all the feelings he was starting to come to terms with were no longer valid. Their relationship went from being hopeful romantics to awkward acquaintances in a matter of days. And then one minute Kurt was calling him a fag and punching him in the face, the next he was crying in his arms. These things just didn't happen in real life. This was supposed to be the sort of drama reserved for soap operas and sappy movies, not the lives of a family living in a small town in Ohio. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen to him. To any of them.

Only about a minute had passed before Kurt seemed to realize what he was doing. He pulled out of Blaine's embrace and turned around, wiping his eyes so Blaine wouldn't be able to see. He took the opportunity to do the same.

"I think you should go," whispered Kurt, keeping his back to Blaine.

This time Blaine didn't even think about arguing. He gave a small nod. "Okay. Just… take care and don't give up on yourself, Kurt," he said. "I know I won't," he added quietly before walking out the door.

Blaine took a moment once he was outside the room to breathe and get his thoughts and feelings under control. While he didn't get any of the information he had sought out to gain, this visit was definitely not a failure. This was the first time since the attack that Kurt hadn't shied away from physical contact. He hadn't shied away from _him_. It was a small step toward normalcy. It was a tiny victory and he would take whatever he could get.

…

Burt Hummel arrived at Dalton Academy for Boys in a whirlwind of anger. He went straight to the headmaster's office and had a (relatively) calm conversation with the man. Burt wasn't leaving until he got what he wanted, and what he wanted was for his son to keep attending Dalton where he was safe.

"There isn't any way to get the expulsion removed?" Burt more or less begged. "You have to understand where I'm coming from. If he goes back to that school those punks might do this to him again, or worse. There has to be something you can do. Please."

The headmaster sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I can't do anything for your son, Mr. Hummel," he stated for possibly the tenth time during their conversation. He held up a hand to stop Burt as he was about to protest. "But," he said, "what I _can _do is bring this issue up at the school board meeting next week. The board has the authority to override certain decisions. You would have to be in attendance to make your claim, but it is possible that they can vote in favor of a suspension instead of an expulsion."

Burt latched on to each and every word and nodded fervently. "Yeah, of course, of course. I'll be there for sure."

"Once the board votes, however, that is the last opportunity. If they do not revoke the expulsion, there really is nothing else that can be done," explained the headmaster.

"Alright, I understand," said Burt, getting to his feet to shake the other man's hand. "Thank you for this, it really means a lot."

"I hope it works out for you and your son," he said. The headmaster gave Burt all of the information he would need to know for the board meeting. "Good luck, Mr. Hummel," he said with a smile.

Burt thanked the man and shook his hand one last time before leaving the office and heading up to where he knew his son's room was. He was not looking forward to having to deal with Kurt. What was he supposed to do with the boy? How was he supposed to punish him? Sure, he'd been pissed when the school had called him at the shop and said that his son had been expelled for foul language and physical violence. He'd been stunned at first, sure that they had the wrong number. Kurt would never do something like that. But it had indeed been Kurt.

On the drive over (Burt may have sped just a little bit), he had gone through everything in his mind. What he was going to say to Kurt, how Kurt would probably react, the various arguments they would probably have. He hated that every scenario he had prepared himself for involved one or both of them yelling. It never used to be like that. Burt was trying to be supportive, trying to understand what Kurt was going through, but it was hard. Kurt didn't want help; he was too proud or too ashamed to ask for it. Burt didn't know what he was supposed to do. He just wanted his boy back. He wanted things to go back to how they used to be when he would try to understand Kurt as he talked about the new fashion line from that fancy McQueen person or when Kurt tried to teach him how to fix that healthy food he was always on about. Those days were easier.

He arrived at Kurt's door and, after taking a breath to prepare himself, knocked. "Kurt? You in there, kid?" Burt twisted the doorknob and found that it was open so he let himself in. The room was already cleaned out and Kurt's things were all lying haphazardly in suitcases and boxes strewn across the room. The thing that really caught his eye though was his son curled up on his bed. Kurt looked up when Burt walked in. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were wet with tears. Burt crossed the room in an instant, sat down on the bed and held his son against his chest. Kurt didn't fight it at all, but just leaned into him and cried. Burt completely forgot that he was supposed to be angry as he held his son who was practically sobbing like his life depended on it.

Kurt tried to speak, but his words just came out in a garbled mess. While he couldn't understand the words that his kid was trying to say, the meaning was clear enough; this whole situation sucked. "Kurt, it's okay," said Burt, holding him close. "It's alright, son, everything's gonna be okay."

Burt wasn't sure how long they sat there like that, holding and comforting each other. It had been so long since he'd been able to get this close to his son and, while it was nice to finally have that back, he knew that this was only happening because something else had gone wrong. Kurt hadn't been this openly vulnerable in months. And while Burt was painfully curious as to what had happened, he would wait for a different time to try and talk about it.

Once they finally pulled apart and got themselves together, Burt suggested they start loading Kurt's things into the truck so they could get home where Carole would hopefully be fixing a nice supper. It only took them about three trips to get all of Kurt's things out of the room and, after a quick stop in the office again for some paperwork, they were on the road back to Lima.

Burt just secretly hoped that his son wouldn't have to stay in Lima for the rest of the school year. It was all going to come down to the school board meeting next week. He could only hope that they would understand their situation and take back Kurt's expulsion. Burt would just have to continue supporting his son the best he could until a better solution came along. He just hoped that solution would come soon.


	16. Chapter 16

**Alright, so this chapter may be a little awkward because the first chunk goes over Kurt's feelings from the last chapter and then continues with all the other stuff that will be happening. Sorry if it's a little wonky, but it was mildly necessary.**

**Also, my life is about to get very hectic so I don't know when I'll be able to update again. There will only be between 3-6 more chapters depending on how things go, so we are definitely near the end of this whirlwind of a story.**

**Thanks again to everyone who's reading! Your thoughts and comments really mean a lot! Oh, and this story has almost 100 reviews! That's awesome! You should totally leave a review and push it over that milestone. Please? =D**

**Now on with the show!**

* * *

It was the understatement of the century to say that Kurt had a lot on his mind. The drive home from Dalton had been awkwardly silent as Kurt tried his hardest to not think about everything that had happened that day. It had been going well enough until his encounter with Blaine. Apparently he thought it would be a good idea to get himself expelled by calling Blaine a fag and then punching him in the face.

There had been a brief moment of triumph as Kurt realized that he would finally be rid of Dalton Academy and wouldn't have to put up with the stigma of attending a gay school anymore. But he had regretted it the moment afterwards when he saw the look on Blaine's face. Kurt couldn't believe he'd actually done that. To Blaine. He was already confused enough about how he was supposed to act around the other boy and then he had to go and pull a stunt like _that_. Really? It almost made Kurt sick to think about.

Because really, he couldn't deny the fact that there was a small part of him (possibly a large part, if he was going to be honest) that really cared about him. But there was that ever-present, internal conflict raging in his head that demanded he squash those feelings because they would give him away as gay and then he'd just be right back in the hospital again. Or worse, six feet underground. Either way, Kurt desperately wanted to stay away from either scenario and that meant trying to convince himself and everyone around him that he was definitely _not _gay. He couldn't be. His life depended on being straight and, although his life sort of sucked at the moment, he'd prefer to continue living rather than face the alternative.

He hadn't even been able to get angry at Blaine earlier when he showed up at his dorm. Kurt had tried, he really did try to be angry. But when he saw the physical evidence of what he had done, he couldn't do it. He'd hurt Blaine. _Really _hurt him. He had caused physical harm to the boy he was trying so hard to not love.

Maybe there was a part of him that thought it would make things easier. If he was able to hit Blaine then he couldn't really care about him that much, right? If that was what his subconscious was going for, then it messed up. Because that was not how it ended up working.

Kurt just felt guilty and ashamed and angry at himself and then he was angry at everyone else and then he felt horrible for being so angry at everyone that it just made him even more upset and… ugh. He couldn't even keep his thoughts and feelings straight. Why did this all have to happen to him? What the hell had he done to piss off the universe so badly?

His afternoon only got more confusing when all of those feelings just couldn't stay bottled up anymore. Kurt had more or less perfected the art of keeping his feelings to himself (except anger… that one snuck out more often than it really should have) but there had just been too many to deal with. When Blaine had hugged him earlier, Kurt didn't have the strength to push him away. He didn't even have the strength to keep himself from crying.

He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. He'd tried to avoid it for the most part because boys weren't supposed to cry. He couldn't be seen showing such a weak emotion; that would just have the gay-bashers on him in an instant. But Kurt hadn't been able to stop it. And he had felt so safe as Blaine held him, like nothing bad was ever going to happen again. But he came to his senses eventually and stopped himself even though it had felt so nice.

None of it made anything any easier to understand. Kurt just wanted this all to stop. He wanted to stop feeling so angry all the time. He wanted to stop trying so hard to fit in. He wanted to stop criticizing his each and every move for fear that it would give him away and make someone come at him. He just wanted all of it to stop.

Most of all, he wanted everyone to stop silently judging him. Everyone did it. Kurt supposed they had a good reason to be that way, but it still upset him. During the ride home he'd even gotten a good dose of it from his father when he asked for one small detail from the incident earlier.

"So who was it?" he asked, trying to nonchalantly break the uncomfortable silence in the truck.

"What do you mean?" replied Kurt half-heartedly, staring at the scenery as they drove by. There were small piles of snow that hadn't completely melted. The weather in Ohio was pretty much menopausal between February and April. It would be snowing one day and be in the high fifties the next and then the following day would be dry with a wind chill of minus ten. Now that March was creeping up on them it seemed that Mother Nature decided it was the perfect time to start melting the snow with a relative heat wave, though they would probably be blanketed again in a couple of weeks. The sudden changes in weather reminded Kurt of his own moods, unpredictable and unforgiving.

"Who'd you hit?" tried his father again, casting him a side-eye glance that Kurt didn't see.

He was silent for a moment before answering, knowing that this could be the start of some big argument. "Blaine," he answered simply.

The truck swerved a bit as Burt quickly turned his attention to his son. The disbelief was apparent in his face, but Kurt refused to meet his eyes to see it. "Blaine? You punched _Blaine_?"

"And I called him a fag," he added. If he was going to be in trouble, Kurt supposed he better be punished for everything.

Kurt didn't want to see his dad's face because he knew that he was being judged. He knew how much everyone loved Blaine and how apparently unacceptable it was for him to say or do anything against the other boy. He expected his father to yell something about being disappointed in him for being such a bastard to good, sweet, innocent Blaine.

But his father didn't exactly say quite that. Instead, he clenched his jaw as if he were restraining himself from saying something and just shook his head, focusing his attention solely on the road again even though his mind was racing with unspoken responses.

The rest of the trip was silent.

Once they arrived home and unpacked all of his things, his dad gently suggested that they go see his psychiatrist soon. Kurt only hesitated for a moment before agreeing. It was probably for the best. Between the panic attack he'd had the other day and then this… he needed to talk this out with someone who was trained to handle crazy people like that.

And that's when it hit him. He was crazy. Not an endearing sort of crazy, but the kind of crazy usually reserved for drunken homeless men who wore aluminum foil hats to stop the aliens and/or government from reading their thoughts.

He stood in the hallway and looked at his father, his eyes wide in unfortunate realization. "Dad? Am I going crazy?" he asked quietly.

Burt just shook his head firmly and moved to hold his son again. "You are _not _crazy, Kurt, you understand me?" he said, trying to be reassuring. "You just… you've got a lot going on right now and it's enough to stress anyone out. I promise you, you are not crazy."

When they did manage to drive the two hours to Columbus the next day to see his therapist, she confirmed that Kurt was not crazy. After listening to him explain his week for an hour she came to the conclusion that he had post traumatic stress disorder, which Kurt thought was just lovely. He already had dissociative amnesia and a broken arm and leg, so why not throw on _another _psychological disorder. It was _just _what he wanted right now.

She said that he was a textbook case; he had experienced something traumatic, avoided anything that was associated with the incident, re-experienced the event in flashbacks and nightmares, lost interest in things he normally enjoyed, he was constantly anxious, jumpy and irritable, and, as evidenced by his panic attack, he had intense physical reactions to reminders or the event.

He was given a prescription that was supposed to help calm him down so that he could stop being so anxious all the time and start trying to enjoy things again. They stressed the importance of taking it every day; a missed dose or two could result in a handful of side-effects that included being sick in every way imaginable as well as increased anxiety, neither of which he wanted or needed at this point. He and his dad sat down and were instructed on what the drug would hopefully do, the fact that it wouldn't start to show any results for a couple of weeks, the precautions for taking it (such as the fact that he shouldn't drive for the next couple of weeks until they knew how the medication was going to affect him… not that his dad was letting him drive with the casts on anyway, but that wasn't the point), as well as the exhaustive list of possible side effects.

As pain-staking as this entire process seemed to be, Kurt actually felt a little optimistic about it. Maybe this was what he'd been waiting for. If the medicine would stop his anxiety, then that would fix everything else, right?

But he still had that conflict on whether or not he was/should be gay or not. He doubted the medicine would help with that, though. Oh well. They would just have to take this one step at a time for now. Maybe this really would fix everything.

In fact, things did start to get a little better. Not that it had anything to do with starting this new medication, but on the visit to the hospital that weekend (Kurt felt like all he did anymore was visit therapists and doctors) the doctor announced that they could remove the cast on his leg. They wanted to wait a little longer on the arm since there had been more damage there, but the leg was good to go.

Once they'd sawed it off it was like Kurt had been handed a large helping of relief. It seemed like, with one cast gone, he was that much closer to trying to forget that this whole incident had happened in the first place. Not to mention the fact that it was much easier to walk around in general without having to limp everywhere and announce his presence with the creepy thumping of his unnatural gait. He was that much closer to being normal and it felt great.

* * *

"Dude, I don't see why it's such a big deal."

"Because, Finn, the last time we spoke we didn't exactly part on good terms."

The two boys were quietly bickering in the kitchen while they cleared the dishes from the table. It was Saturday night and Finn had invited Rachel over to hang out and watch a movie after dinner. Burt and Carole had already retreated upstairs and had agreed to let Rachel come over as long as everyone kept quiet. Kurt was hesitant about the girl visiting, remembering the last time Rachel had attempted to make peace with him and he'd practically thrown her out of his room.

"She was just trying to help," Finn replied, only a little defensive of the girl. "You don't even have to talk to her. You can stay in your room the whole time," reasoned Finn as he removed the glassware from the table (he was too paranoid to let Kurt do it in case his cast got in the way and he dropped something).

Kurt rolled his eyes and snorted. "Do you honestly think that Rachel will set foot in this house without making some sort of attempt at jogging my memory about my past life?" he asked, wiping down the places of the table that had already been cleared of the dinnerware. "Besides, I didn't think you two were dating anymore," he added, giving his step-brother a curious look.

"We aren't," admitted Finn somewhat bashfully. "But I invited her over and she said sure. So that must mean something, right? Maybe she wants me back."

Kurt just shook his head. "I don't even see why you would want her back. She's annoying and abrasive and just all around irritating."

Finn smiled fondly. "Yeah, she is. But there's still something about her, y'know?"

"No. I don't." Kurt finished wiping down the table and made sure all the chairs were properly aligned around the table. As part of his 'punishment' for being expelled Kurt was in charge of as much housework as he could manage one-handed which, unfortunately, was actually quite a bit. But he didn't complain about it. It gave him something to do while Finn was at school and their parents were at work (though his father made it a point to call every hour to check on him, a habit Kurt quickly found very annoying).

But Kurt had more or less resigned himself to spending the rest of the evening locked away in his room. His dad had grounded him from movies and video games as well, so it wasn't like he could sit and watch whatever movie Finn and Rachel were going to end up watching anyway. Hell, they'd probably just end up making out on the couch halfway in anyway and he did _not _want to be in the vicinity for that.

As he walked upstairs to his room, he slowly started to come to a realization. Teenagers made-out and kissed all the time, right? It was part of being a teenager. Kurt had no recollection if he'd ever been kissed or not. That memory would solve all of his problems. If it had been a girl, then it meant that he must be straight and no one could deny it. If it had been a guy… But it didn't matter because he could not for the life of him remember if he'd ever been kissed either way.

It was kind of a depressing thought, really. He sat down on his bed and just started at the floor. What if he were to kiss someone now? Would that answer the question? It had to, right? It made sense.

He was interrupted by Finn knocking on his open door, looking rushed.

"Hey, I'm sorry to ask you, but can you go downstairs and wait for Rachel? I forgot to get the movie from the rental place." He was trying to put on a coat as he spoke but apparently had problems multitasking because he started to put it on backwards before he realized his mistake.

Kurt sighed. "I suppose. As long as she doesn't try giving me that stupid CD again," he said, getting to his feet.

Finn's face fell a little bit as he said that. "You thought the CD was stupid?" He seemed hurt by the mere thought and Kurt figured that Finn probably had a big part and putting that project together.

"Don't you have a movie to be renting?" evaded Kurt, raising a brow.

"Oh yeah!" The taller boy darted into his room for car keys and gloves. "If she asks, tell her I'm… I dunno, getting milk or something. Just don't tell her I forgot the movie or she'll hate me," he said quickly as he ran down the stairs. Kurt followed at a more reasonable pace.

"Sure thing, Finn, whatever," he said, dismissively waving a hand and sitting down in the recliner.

His step-brother gave him a wide smile. "You're awesome, man. I owe you. I'll be back in like, ten minutes!" And with that, Finn was out the door and it wasn't long before Kurt heard his car pull out of the driveway and down the road.

Kurt sat and grumbled to himself about how irritating it was going to be to have to sit here and entertain Rachel until Finn got back. Hopefully he would return before Rachel arrived and he wouldn't be subjected to her incessant—

_Ding dong!_

Or not. Kurt heaved himself out of the recliner and walked over to the front door. He took a breath to prepare himself before opening the door. Rachel stood there in a white pea coat and wearing matching hat and gloves. Her smile faltered a little when she saw that Kurt was standing at the door instead of Finn.

"Oh. Hello, Kurt," she said politely.

"Hello, Rachel," he replied civilly, opening the door wider to let her in. "Finn had to run to the store but he'll be back soon," he told her as she started to remove her winter gear.

"He probably just forgot to get the movie," she commented as she hung her coat in the closet. Kurt gave a small snort of laughter at her correct judgment. "So I guess it's just you and me until he gets back!" Rachel announced as she turned to face him with a grin.

And that's when it hit him.

"I want you to know that I hold no grudge against you for being upset with me the last time we saw each other," she started, already going off on some tangent. "While I was only trying to help you because you're my friend, I understand that my help may not have been entirely what you wanted and I –"

"Rachel."

"I'm sorry about it and it won't happen again. And I heard about your expulsion from Dalton and, let me just say, that is completely unfair."

"_Rachel._"

The girl finally stopped talking long enough to pay him some attention. "Would you like to sit down or are you going to stand in the hallway and talk my ear off?" he asked, gesturing toward the living room with his hand.

Rachel gave him an embarrassed smile and followed him to one of the couches. Once they sat down she was about to launch into finishing her tirade when Kurt held up his good hand to stop her.

"Rachel. I, um- I actually really need your help with something," Kurt stated, to which Rachel positively beamed.

"Oh, Kurt! Of course! I'll help you with anything you need. I know we may have been rivals in glee club but it was always a friendly rivalry and you should know that I will help you and support you in anything that you need."

Kurt paused for a beat before replying. "I need you to kiss me." He figured it would be best to be blunt at this point. And it was hilarious to see the quick change in her facial expression.

There was a long pause before Rachel replied. Her face was no longer cheery and excited, but confused and a little alarmed. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I need you. To kiss me," he repeated, a little slower and more enunciated than before. When Rachel's eyes just got bigger, he decided to elaborate a little more. "Look, I don't know what's going on with me, okay? I'm trying to figure out who I am and that's really hard when I don't even remember what gender I'm supposed to be attracted to," he explained. "So I'd really appreciate it if you could help me with this."

Rachel looked conflicted in about every way possible over the situation he had presented her with. "Kurt… I want to help you as much as I can, I really do, but I don't think I can do that. And besides, I know you don't remember, but you really are gay. You wouldn't want to kiss me."

"But what if I'm not anymore, Rachel?" he asked. "Please, I really need to figure this out and you're the only one who can help."

"Why don't you ask Blaine?" she countered, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Kurt hadn't expected that turn of the conversation, but he brushed it off quickly enough. "I can't ask him," he replied simply.

"Why? Because you know you'll like it?"

Kurt wasn't sure if she meant to be hateful with that comment or not, but it stung a little bit. He may have visibly winced.

"Rachel, please," he practically begged. This was his last chance for him to try to be straight. If this didn't work, then… well… he just hoped it would work.

The tension in the air was thick as they sat there on the couch, staring at each other, while Rachel deliberated with herself. Then, at last…

"Fine," she said. "But only to prove to you that this isn't what you want!" she clarified sternly, giving Kurt a hard and meaningful (and possibly threatening) stare.

Kurt let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank you," he breathed, honestly relieved that she'd agreed. This was it. This was the moment of truth.

"Just… don't tell anyone, okay?" Kurt gave a nod in agreement and focused his attention on Rachel as she awkwardly moved to sit right in front of him. Their eyes met for a few moments as they were both at a loss for how to start this less-than-ideal exchange, but it was Rachel who finally closed the small distance between them as she gently pressed her lips to Kurt's.

He expected fireworks or tingling or some sort of indicator that this was what he had really been waiting for all this time. Maybe a giant red flag with the words I LIKE GIRLS printed on it in bold letters. But the only thing he felt was the presence of another person. Eyes closed, Kurt returned Rachel's gentle kiss, hoping that things would change if there was a little reciprocation on his end.

But there was still nothing. A few more kisses were exchanged between the two of them before Kurt pulled back, finally defeated. They sat in silence for a full thirty seconds before Rachel spoke.

"I'm sorry that didn't turn out the way you wanted it to," she said softly, her honesty showing in her voice that she was truly sorry that Kurt wasn't happy.

"Me, too." Kurt didn't meet her eyes. He somehow felt dirty and ashamed and embarrassed and he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die there.

Because now it was official. Kurt Hummel really was a fairy. And now there was nothing he could do about it.

As fate would have it, Finn chose that moment to barge in the front door. "Hey, sorry I'm late!" he announced as he hastily shoved his shoes and coat into the closet in his eagerness to get to where Rachel was. Upon seeing the somber expressions of the two on the couch, his mood dropped a little bit. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking back and forth between Kurt and Rachel.

Rachel looked to Kurt, unsure of what she was supposed to say. "Uhm, Kurt was—"

"I was telling her about what happened at school the other day," he interrupted. Kurt didn't want Finn to know about what had just happened. It was too embarrassing.

"Oh." Finn cheered up a little, apparently glad that it had been nothing more serious. "I wouldn't worry so much about that, man. Burt will totally take care of that when he goes to that meeting thing on Monday," he stated confidently, sitting down in the chair since the other two were taking up most of the couch. "And I got the movie!" he announced proudly, holding up a DVD case for some romantic comedy. "I won't tell Burt if you want to watch it with us, Kurt," offered Finn good-naturedly.

But Kurt just shook his head and got up from his spot on the couch. "No, thanks though, Finn. I think I'll just go ahead and go upstairs."

Before he could move too far, though, Rachel had gotten to her feet and crossed the room. She wrapped her arms around Kurt in a friendly and warm hug. He accepted it but didn't return it. He wasn't feeling particularly touchy-feely at the moment.

Rachel pulled away and looked up at him, meeting his eyes. "I'm always here if you need me," she told him quietly.

Kurt nodded in thanks and turned to walk up the stairs to his room. As he did, he heard Finn comment to Rachel, _"I'm surprised he let you hug him. Last time I even tried to touch him he whacked me with his cast. Hurt like a bitch."_

He didn't even bother changing into pajamas when he reached his room and just fell right onto his bed. He felt empty inside, like all of his hope had been sucked away. Kurt had tried so hard to fight it, but he didn't think it was possible to fight anymore.

He was gay and there was apparently nothing he could do about it.


	17. Chapter 17

**I promised I would finish this story and finish it I shall! It may take me months between updates, but it will happen! *RAWR***

**Sorry for the horrible delay. I've recently graduated from college, moved in with a friend's family, and am working an internship and a part-time job seven days a week. My free time is pretty much spent sleeping, I'm not even kidding. But I've been piddling away at this for awhile and finally sat down to hash out the rest of this tonight so TA-DA! Here it is!**

**I hope you enjoy this nine-page block of crazy. You get character development! You get bonding moments! You get yelling! You get a special guest appearance by someone! Who is it? Read to find out!**

**And if you're awesome and can spare the moment, I really do appreciate reviews. They help to kick my tushy into gear so I can write faster. So it's for your benefit, really. =D **

**And also, I've noticed that some people ask (very good) questions about content and what's going on. Please do! I've got this all more or less mapped out in my head and it sometimes gets a little garbled when I type it out. So if something is confusing or not clear, let me know and I'll try to clear it up. There's some minor details that people have been wondering about that I'm trying to squeeze in places, so let me know if there is something you don't get!**

* * *

Kurt couldn't sleep that night. He couldn't exactly get his mind to relax after that jarring epiphany he'd had with Rachel. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to think of something soothing and calming but he kept coming back to the same thing.

He was gay. He was _really _gay and he could no longer pretend otherwise.

Maybe Dalton really was the best place for him. It was safe there, at least.

But then every time he left school grounds everyone would look at him and _know _and they would whisper behind his back and plan for secret back alley beatings and he would just wind up in the hospital again.

A little part of his mind countered that the thugs who had actually attacked him had been arrested and were now in juvie. Were the odds really that high that someone else would try a stunt like that? He'd be safe out there. He would have nothing to worry about.

Except for the fact that if his expulsion wasn't revoked from Dalton then he would have to try and rough it back in public school. And while Kurt thought he could probably handle it, especially now that he was on this anti-anxiety medication, he wasn't sure if he was quite ready for it yet. Public school was where it all started. Public school was where it was bound to happen again.

Dalton was where he should be. But if the meeting between his father and the school council or whoever was in charge didn't go well… No. Kurt knew that his dad would fight to the death for him to go back to Dalton. For all that his father hated him being so far away under all of the current circumstances, it was obvious that he preferred Kurt to be there than at McKinley. His dad would fix everything. He had to.

Kurt didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up at a quarter to nine the next morning. He was still exhausted and had no idea what had even woke him up until he heard Finn's voice coming from his doorway.

"Kurt? You should wake up, man. Mom made waffles. And French toast. There's bacon and eggs, too."

The thought of breakfast at the moment was entirely unappetizing. Kurt pulled his comforter over his head and rolled over, mumbling something entirely incoherent.

"C'mon, Kurt. Mom never makes this much stuff for breakfast." Finn's voice was next to his bed this time, trying to be convincing. But Kurt just wanted to sleep. Being awake meant thinking, and thinking led to topics he really didn't feel like burdening himself with. It would just be better to sleep. Ideally, he wished he could just sleep for the rest of his life. Then he wouldn't have to worry about any of this anymore.

"…Kurt?"

"Go away, Finn," growled Kurt from under his covers. He practically heard Finn debate on whether or not to continue verbally prodding Kurt (he had adopted a no-touch policy after the time when Kurt had hit him with his cast). He must have decided against it because after a few seconds Kurt heard the door shut quietly. He uncovered his head so that he could breathe properly and, after a few moments of silent grumbling, fell back asleep.

It didn't last for long, however.

"Hey, Kurt?" It was his dad's voice. Kurt rolled over and blearily opened his eyes to see his father standing in the doorway looking concerned. "You okay kiddo?"

Kurt let out a sleepy grunt and gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders from underneath his comforter. "Jus' tired," he mumbled.

Burt wasn't buying the excuse and came in to sit on the side of Kurt's mattress. He reached out a rough hand to feel his son's forehead. "You don't feel warm," he said after a moment. "You sure you feeling alright?"

Kurt gave a small nod. "Didn't sleep well," he offered. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to get into the real reason that he barely got a wink of sleep during the night.

"You think it may be a side effect of your new meds?" asked Burt.

He thought about it for a moment. The anti-anxiety medication he started last week was supposed to stop his paranoia about everything and stop his panic attacks, not make him feel even worse. He supposed it may be a possibility that the meds could be making some symptoms worse before they get better. It happened, right?

Or it could just be the fact that he finally realized that he was a freak of nature. _No_, he told himself. He really needed to stop thinking about it like that. If he was going to try and accept this about him, he needed to face it and actually accept it. And the first step to that would be to admit it. Out loud.

Kurt slowly sat up, a thoughtful look on his face. "Dad? I need to tell you something."

Burt's face quickly went from frightened to concerned before resting on a forcedly neutral expression. "I'm listening."

It took a moment for Kurt to gather his thoughts before he started speaking. "I'm really, _really _sorry. About everything," he started. "I've been a huge jerk the past few months. And you've been nothing but supportive. I don't know how you've put up with me all this time."

"Kurt…"

"No, I need to get this all out before I change my mind," interrupted Kurt. He kept his eyes on his comforter, unable to look his father in the eyes for the time being. "I don't really have a good excuse for how I've been acting. I was afraid of who I was supposed to be. Of who I _am_, I suppose. I was afraid that being… gay… would paint a target on me and just get me attacked again. But… but that's what I am and I need to stop being so afraid of it. I'm gay," he said a bit hesitantly.

_Not good enough_, he scolded himself. He took a deep breath and looked up to meet his father's eyes. "I'm gay," he said with more confidence. "And I'm going to try to stop being so afraid of it."

For some unexplained reason, Kurt felt better after making that statement. It was as if his fear and anxiety had been weighing him down the past few months and, now that he had opened up and accepted those things about himself, he felt lighter.

It felt even better when his dad enveloped him in a tight hug and said in his ear, "I am so proud of you." He pulled away and looked at his son, pride and love positively shining in his eyes. "I know the past couple of months have been rough on you, kid, and I'm so glad that you're finally okay with who you are."

Kurt gave a small smile, happy to see his father in such good spirits over the whole thing. He hadn't really seen his dad in a good mood since… well… since before the accident, really. It was a welcome change.

"Now why don't you go ahead and get up, take your meds, and come on down for breakfast. I made sure Finn didn't eat everything," Burt added with a grin.

Kurt nodded. "I'll be down in a minute," he said. His dad stood up and went to leave the room before Kurt called out to him. "Oh, and Dad?" Burt stopped and turned around. Kurt smiled at him. "Thanks. For everything. I love you."

Burt, not really the type for getting emotional, simply nodded his head. But when he replied with, "I love you, too, kiddo," Kurt knew that he was saying so much more. It was a declaration of love and understanding, a statement that meant he would do anything and everything for his boy and that nothing could ever stand in the way of his family. Most of all, it meant to Kurt that his dad didn't hold anything against him. Not the fights and name-calling and all the other horrible things Kurt had said. It was all in the past and didn't matter. Above all else, that was the thing that really struck Kurt. He allowed himself a wide smile when his dad finally walked out.

Things were finally starting to look up.

…

The day of the board meeting arrived with much tension in the Hummel-Hudson household. Finn wished Burt and Kurt an awkward good-luck as he left for school. Carole didn't mention anything and just acted as if it were any other Monday. Out of the two, Kurt definitely preferred Carole's approach.

"Can you help me with the breakfast dishes, Kurt?" she asked as she carried some plates to the sink.

Kurt gave a numb nod and carried over his dishes. Carole handed him a dishtowel. "Why don't you dry them so you don't have to get your cast wet," she suggested as she started running the water. They stood there in silence for a few moments as the sink filled. Kurt heard his dad get up from the table to finish getting ready.

"So what are your plans for the day, hm?" Carole asked as she began to wash plates.

"Oh, you know, the usual," Kurt started as he gave a non-committal shrug. "I thought I'd lounge on the couch from nine to ten-thirty and then move over to the armchair for a couple hours to get a different perspective on the living room. If I have time I may even lay face-down on the ground and count the threads in the carpet," he said dryly, carefully running his towel over a plate and then setting it on the counter.

Carole just smiled good-naturedly. "If that's what you want to do, then I won't judge," she said, handing him another plate.

Kurt let out a snort. "What else am I supposed to do? Dad hardly lets me leave the house anymore," he grumbled. It was as if his father was terrified that something else horrible would happen if he stepped foot outside the door. At first Kurt hadn't minded, but now it was becoming stifling. Kurt especially wanted something to do today to keep his mind busy. If he didn't do something he was going to drive himself crazy going through each and every possible outcome of the board meeting that would decide his fate.

"Why don't you go for a walk somewhere?" suggested Carole as she rinsed a glass. "Or see if there's something you could do at the garage to keep yourself busy."

The garage! Why hadn't Kurt thought about that before? His knowledge and love of fixing cars seemed to be one of the few aspects of his life left unaffected by the attack. His hands (the good one, anyway) started itching with the prospect of digging through an engine, tweaking this and that, and in general just getting his hands dirty by actually doing something worthwhile. But there was one flaw that could potentially burst his bubble of imminent happiness.

"How will I get there if everyone is gone?" he asked Carole, almost embarrassed at the slight note of desperation that was in his voice. "Dad won't let me drive."

"I can drop you off when I leave for work in an hour and I'm sure Finn could come pick you up after school," she said, smiling at how truly excited Kurt was getting at the chance to get out of the house to do something that he enjoyed. "And if you wanted to leave early I'm sure Mark or Jerry would give you a ride home," she added.

Kurt nodded and almost dropped the glass he was drying. He was going to do something. _Finally_. Instead of sitting around moping all day he was actually going to get out of the house. He almost didn't care about the board meeting now. He could stay expelled for all he cared now that he actually had something to occupy his time with.

"Why don't you go ahead and get dressed," said Carole. "I'm not taking you out of the house in that outfit," she told him with a playful smile.

Kurt looked down at his clothes, a mis-matched pair of pajamas, and furrowed his brows in mock offense. "But I spent so much time putting this together!" he huffed, unable to hold back a grin.

Carole laughed. "Sorry to break it to you, sweetie, but your color-coordination is a little lacking these days. Practice makes perfect, though, so go on upstairs and put on some actual clothes!" she said, gently nudging him with her hips since her hands were still covered in soapy dishwater.

Kurt just smiled and took off for the stairs. "And don't forget to take your medicine!" reminded Carole, smiling to herself as she watched Kurt run to his room. Kurt wasn't about to forget his pills; whatever was in them really seemed to be helping. And that was a comforting thought.

…

Over the past few months, Kurt had grown quite adept at using his left hand for daily tasks such as brushing his teeth, writing, grasping things while using the cast on his right arm to steady them, and even using kitchen utensils. He was quickly learning, however, that he was incredibly clumsy with tools.

The guys at the shop were patient with him (they weren't really that busy on a Monday morning) but Kurt could tell that some of the customers were not happy with how slowly he was doing the simplest tasks, such as handling the pumps for an oil change. It took much longer than he was used to and, to be quite honest, Kurt was getting impatient with himself. It only took a couple of hours before he admitted defeat and retreated to the front lobby where he resigned himself to answering phones and handling payments. He helped out when they had a friendly regular who wasn't in a hurry, but he spent most of his morning and afternoon in the front.

He had talked himself into not being discouraged about this minor setback. His cast was coming off in a couple of weeks and then he would be able to use both his hands. Or… would he? Now that Kurt thought about it, hadn't the doctors said that he may never fully regain function in his right arm? What then? Would he be able to work in the shop at all or would he lose the use of his right hand permanently?

The cheery door chime sounded and brought Kurt back to the present. A high school student wearing a red varsity jacket walked in (which reminded Kurt that Finn was supposed to pick up after school… was it already that time?). Kurt was about to offer the young man a friendly greeting when he spoke first.

"When did you get back in town?"

Kurt cocked his head to the side, trying to place this stranger who seemed to know him. "I've been home for about a week," he replied, buying time until he (hopefully) remembered who this person was. A classmate from McKinley? Kurt studied the other boy. He was a little taller than he was and had a bit of a husky build with neatly trimmed short, dark hair. But try as he might, Kurt could not place a name to him. Heck, he couldn't find anything in his patchwork memory that said anything about this guy.

"How's your head?" asked the strange young man quietly, as if afraid to be overheard. Now Kurt was really starting to get curious. Whoever this person was seemed to know him pretty well, or at least know of his basic medical problems. Then again, who in this town didn't? It had been all over the news after all. Hate crimes tended to make at least the 11 o'clock news programs.

"Better, comparatively," answered Kurt casually.

"Hudson said you had memory problems," he continued, keeping a few steps away from the counter. Was he afraid to get too close for some reason? And how did he know Finn? This guy was becoming more mysterious by the second. "Is that true?"

Kurt hesitated before offering a small nod. "Yeah, I have problems remembering a lot of things. People, things I used to like, certain events here and there. Gets really annoying, to be honest," he said with an attempt at a smile to try and lighten the mood. But the other guy didn't crack a smile, just stared at him thoughtfully. It was slightly unnerving and Kurt was beginning to regret offering to work alone in the front office.

"You don't remember me, do you?" asked the guy. Kurt couldn't tell if he was upset or relieved by the thought that Kurt may not know who he was. Best way to tell would be to tell the truth, he supposed.

"Sorry, no," replied Kurt, shaking his head. "I've been trying to figure out—"

"So you don't know my name? You don't know anything about me?" he pressed. "Anything at all?"

Kurt stared at him, willing himself to place anything to this person, any fact, any emotion, anything. But there was absolutely nothing. He shook his head. "No, sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't even remember who my brother's sort-of girlfriend was," he offered as a sort of apology.

The guy standing in front of him visibly relaxed and let out a breath that he had been holding. "No, it's okay, really. I'm just…" He shook his head, apparently changing his mind about whatever he was going to say. He actually let out a small laugh of relief, which Kurt thought was odd. Why would this person be so happy that Kurt didn't know anything about him?

"Look, Kurt," he started, taking a step closer to the counter. "I'm really glad you're doing okay. You obviously don't remember but we… we had our share of differences in the past. And some similarities, I suppose," he added under his breath, but not quietly enough that Kurt didn't hear him. "I never wanted you to land in the hospital for anything. When Azimio started bragging about what he and the other jocks did to you I called the cops. They thought…"

"Wait," Kurt interrupted, leaning forward. "_You _were the one who gave the anonymous tip that got those guys arrested?" he asked incredulously.

The other boy paused for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I did. They deserved it."

Kurt was silent for a moment. "Why did you do it?" he asked, morbidly curious. If this guy was so happy that Kurt didn't remember a single thing about him, it seemed really odd that he would be the one that ended up putting his attackers in jail.

He thought about the question carefully before answering. "Because I owed you. For everything. And it was the right thing to do," he added, looking down at the ground almost as if he were embarrassed for doing the right thing in the first place.

Kurt was just about to thank the other boy (and ask for his name, because that was really starting to bother him) when the front door opened violently and Finn stormed in.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he yelled. Kurt was instantly confused; why would Finn be upset to see him at the garage? But then he noticed that Finn wasn't looking at him. He was looking at the guy in the letterman jacket.

"Chill out, Hudson. I need to get my brakes checked. I didn't even know Hummel was in here," he said defensively, standing up taller as if preparing himself for a fight.

"Look, Karofsky, you don't need to be anywhere near him, okay?" Finn stood between the counter and the other boy (whose name was apparently Karofsky), seemingly protecting Kurt. From what, he didn't know, but Finn seemed pretty insistent on the whole thing.

Karofsky rolled his eyes. "I didn't get any closer to him than I am right now. We were just talking."

Kurt stood up at this point. "Really, Finn, he wasn't doing anything," he said. He didn't know why he was defending this Karofsky guy. He didn't even know him (a strange statement in itself because obviously Kurt _used _to know him). Finn was the one being irrational.

Finn turned to look at Kurt. "You don't remember him at all, do you?" Kurt narrowed his eyes in confusion and the slight hesitation before speaking was all the answer Finn needed. "You have no idea what this guy has done to you!"

"I wasn't there, Hudson!" shouted Karofsky. "And I told you that when you cornered me at school the next day and threatened to beat me within an inch of my life. _I didn't do anything_," he said forcefully.

"You may not have actually been there, but you were the reason they did that in the first place and don't even try to deny that!" retaliated Finn.

Kurt had no idea why he was getting so upset over this. He was afraid that things would get ugly if he didn't step in soon. So he decided to end this before it got any worse. "Look, Finn, nothing happened. Everyone's okay. I've had a long and rather frustrating day so can we just go home now?" he asked, pointedly eyeing Finn.

Finn took a moment to deflate. "Yeah. Yeah, alright. Let's go. I don't want to see you around him again," growled Finn, practically glaring at Karofsky.

Karofsky shrugged. "Fine. I wasn't trying to start anything. Can I at least still get my brakes looked at?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "Of course." He grabbed his things and called out to one of the guys working in the garage that he was leaving and there was a customer waiting in the lobby. Once that was taken care of, Kurt followed a fuming Finn out of the store. Before he walked out the door, he turned and mouthed a 'sorry' to Karofsky, feeling that he should apologize for Finn's behavior. Karofsky gave a small nod of understanding before turning to talk to the mechanic that just walked into the office.

The first few minutes of the drive home were thickly silent. Kurt was itching to know what that whole argument was about but decided that Finn should collect himself before he started probing for answers. When he judged the timing to be right, or at least close enough, he ventured a simple question. "So what did Karofsky do to make you hate him so much?"

Finn snorted. "What _didn't _he do?" he answered sarcastically. After taking a breath to calm himself, Finn started to give a more concise answer. "He was the guy who bullied you non-stop. He shoved you, slushied you in the face, threw you into dumpsters… Kurt, he threatened to _kill _you!" he said angrily. "He's the reason you transferred to Dalton. He's so goddamn homophobic that he drove you out of school and got the rest of the jocks behind it. Then his buddies went and almost killed you just for walking back on campus. And none of us knew you were coming. You were surprising us. And it almost got you killed. We didn't know. I didn't know. I couldn't try and protect you at all."

Now Kurt saw the situation clearly. Sure, Finn was upset about the things that had happened in the past, but more than that he felt guilty and partly responsible for what happened. Which was completely ridiculous! How was anyone supposed to protect him when he apparently just showed up unannounced (he had been wondering exactly how he'd wound up at McKinley if he was attending Dalton at the time). It was silly and unfair to expect otherwise.

"Finn, you couldn't have stopped that," said Kurt quietly.

"Yes I could've!" he retorted. "If I would have stepped up sooner then things would've been different. If I would've just noticed the signs that you were being harassed at McKinley we could've put a stop to all of that and then there never would have been a chance for this to happen! I'm a bad brother and I obviously suck at protecting people. I didn't even know," he lamented softly, blinking rapidly to keep tears at bay. Kurt pretended not to notice.

"You aren't psychic, Finn. You can't know everything bad that is going to happen," he said quietly. "Especially if I never told anyone. How could you be expected to know? None of that was your fault."

"I should have been able to protect you," muttered Finn, carefully pulling into the driveway at home.

"From what I understand, I never gave you the chance to protect me," replied Kurt after a moment. He had gathered that he had been an emotional fortress. His pride and stubbornness probably didn't help at all either.

But Finn didn't seem to be accepting the fact that there was legitimately nothing he could have done to stop any of this from happening. So Kurt devised a solution. "Tell you what. I'll start being more open with you, okay? If I need help with something, anything, I'll come to you first. You'll be my metaphorical knight in shining... sweaty t-shirts," he finished humorously.

He was glad to see a small smile on Finn's face. The other boy gave a small nod in acknowledgement. "Alright. That sounds good," he accepted.

Kurt smiled. "Good." That's when he noticed the other vehicle in the driveway.

It was his dad's. Which meant he was back from the meeting. Which meant…

Kurt hurried out of the car as fast as he could manage without getting completely tangled in the seatbelt. He didn't mean to so abruptly end his special moment with Finn, but he had to get into the house _now_. He needed to talk to his dad _now._

Kurt raced up the walkway and up the steps, threw the door open and scanned living room for a full second before calling out to his father.

Burt appeared from the kitchen, beer in hand and his nice shirt comfortably untucked and unbuttoned, no expression on his face other than a carefully constructed smile in greeting. "Hey, kiddo. How was the shop?" he asked, toying with his son.

"Screw the shop. What happened at the meeting?" demanded Kurt, almost out of breath from his mad dash from the car.

Burt took a swig from his bottle before answering with a shrug. "Bunch of old snooty guys yapping away about this and that, I didn't really listen to most of it," he said casually.

"_Dad!"_

Burt chuckled, met gazes with his son, and uttered the words, "You're back in."

* * *

**Ev'rybody sing with me! *Gotta get back to Dalton! Gotta get back to schoooooool!*/random **


End file.
